Miscalculations
by Shekame
Summary: Two part jobs and a tiny apartment in a city. This is what Charlotte has grown accustomed to while living on her own. But when unexpected guests appear in her apartment, Charlotte is at a loss. What is she to do with these dangerous criminals that don't seem to have a clue where they are?
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! Welcome to the first chapter of my new story Miscalculations! I want to thank you for taking an interest in this story no matter now small that interest is. Please leave comments and/or insults. Any feedback will be adored for the consideration you had. To start off, it has almost been an entire year since I have done anything on fanfiction. But I've never forgotten. I truly hope my writing has improved, which I like to think it has improved greatly though I still have room to grow. So, I have nothing more to add other than I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it thus far.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

/ / /

"Are the charts stable?" People bustled around the room with their lab coats flapping behind them. Some were seated in their individual computers, their hands dancing across the keys. Others scurried around and about making last minute preparations. Papers were stacked into unkempt piles scattered about. Used coffee cups littered the desks showing signs of late nights working on their breakthrough project.

Their breakthrough.

A metallic beast stood behind a wall of glass; wires protruded themselves and wound inside its confined space. Its platform, round, was as wide as a car. Finger-like appendages hovered above. It shined with radiance as spotlights were used to illuminate the machine. A machine that had taken so much time, money, and faith to keep its creators operating.

"The charts are stable," a man responded in Japanese. The computer made his glasses glow. His eyes sagged resembling those of a bloodhound's. Many nights had been spent sleeping in his uncomfortable swivel chair and using his desk as a pillow. If things went well tonight, he would soon be able to go back to his home and snooze in his own bed.

"Good," the first man said his Japanese coated with a thin slice of English accent. "Then we will soon commence the practice run of our project." His handsome smile showed off a set of straight pearls. This was the day he'd been waiting for. Ever since that day in the meeting room when all the men in suits thought his idea was preposterous. He calmly explained to them the inner workings of dimensions and wormholes telling them that the impossible could be done.

Despite his usual popularity amongst the men, only the truly risky contributed donations that day.

And this was the day to prove its worth. All of his patience and stress went into this project. It would work.

The man stood, his button shirt worn and wrinkled. Looking over the crowd of workers sitting at their computers signed to their individual duties to the project. Like ants, their job may have been small, but it went towards such a meaningful cause.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he addressed to his staff. The flurry of computer keys and paper passing paused momentarily to listen. "This is a big step toward our dream. Tonight is the night we do what people thought couldn't be done. Tonight is the first test of our hard work," he paused to peer at the mechanism behind the glass wall. "Tonight is the first practice run."

An applause sounded through the air as the man thanked them for their time and effort put into the project. A woman inside the room of interest placed a single piece of paper onto the center of the platform as they cheered. A message, written in Japanese, read a single word: COSMO.

A number of levers were flicked and buttons were pushed as members put on their safety glasses. Screens lit up almost excited for the event to take place. Computers loaded while steady _beeps_ echoed through the tense air. The man waited and watched the loading bar fill with blue bars until it signaled him ready a hearty _**Loading complete. Usage ready.**_

His fingers brushed the top on the button glowing happily. His heart jumped. When was the last time he remembered being so excited? There had almost never been a reason to get excited in his past years. But this, this machine could change the future and its views. Pride, an unfamiliar emotion, pulsed through his veins.

With deep breath and another squeeze from his heart, he pressed down.

A light grew out of the room. Waves of electricity licked the paper wanting to become familiar, to become one. The electricity pulsed and throbbed like it was living. It matured and gained strength as it drank in more power the wires were feeding it. It combined and reproduced scanning the platform below.

One of the blinding strands broke loose from the others. It stretched farther than any in its power-sucking greed. The pillar ran across the wires at the base of its stage causing an excess to energy to surge through. Sparks soared from the base of the equipment. Panic was written on the faces of the staff as sirens flashed across their screens.

"The system is malfunctioning!" A woman cried, her fingers jogging across her keyboard. "There was a miscalculation, it has too much power! It's destroying itself!"

Papers fluttered to the floor as everyone dashed in chaos. Feet dodged and fleeted as some tried to escape the lab. Men and women pounded at controls with ferocious determination to salvage the machine.

The man watched in horror, his stomach sinking, as his work grew more and more out of control. Lightning flicked across the walls of its chamber. Fire was beginning to spread. Utter destruction and pandemonium was unfolding before him.

"Sir!" The man turned to see an avid, middle aged male still standing in front of his screen. "Sir, the machine is searching for a location! It wants to transport something here!"

Transport something.

"What is it sending?" The man yelled over the commotion striding around the disorderly room. "Where is it trying to send it to?"

The employee pushed up his glasses with sweaty hands. "Right now it's somewhere over the United States." They watched as the computer projected views of earth through the use of satellites. The maps zoomed in closer to the continent.

"It has already covered that much distance," the man mumbled to himself. "Can you redirect the location to the lab?"

Shaky hands typed in panic. "I don't have enough time to reroute. The only thing I can manage is to make specific coordinates for the transportation inside the United States area." He turned to look at his boss with anxious eyes. "Is there anyone from the U.S. you can trust?"

Someone in the United States. The man knew many people from the states, but he didn't necessarily trust or know many to keep anything a secret. He did have someone in mind that could handle the situation. However, the relationship between him and that someone was shaky already. He would expect their bond to grow even more strained if he did cause such a conflict.

But this was a much more important issue than a bond. He would make it up somehow.

He rubbed a tense hand through his hair as he sucked air in through his mouth in an almost strained process. "I might have someone in mind."

/ / /

_Ding!_

"Order for table four's ready!" A shrill call sounded through the staff kitchen. Saturday nights were always busy with families going out for their grandmothers' birthday, business meetings for well-known corporations, and even romantic anniversaries for serious lovers.

_Ding!_

Being a well-respected fine dining restaurant in this city, Sixteen was adored for its scrumptious cuisine. Recipes varied from Amuse Bouche to Roast Duck Foie Gras and the customers were pleased with the dishes. The view kept the customers coming back as well. The sparkling streets almost looked welcoming in the evening. Other towering buildings across the urban jungle also glimmered in the night with their glossy windows reflecting the world around. It was the city's substitute sea of stars.

_Ding!_

But, the outlook from the magnificent restaurant windows was marred by the splatters of drizzling raindrops outside. _Plit plit plit_, the sky cried on the bustling human life below. From the sixteenth floor of the hotel, one could barely see the people beneath, but most everyone imaged there would be umbrellas roaming the streets as the weather gradually became worse.

_Ding!_

"Charlie, table eight's dishes are ready to head out!" The sous chef's, Jason, voice rumbled to the waitress that was rushing over to the counter. Jason had a larger build than most men, but also a more gentle nature as well. Gentle, that is, as long as the orders weren't messed with. His face was pudgy and his belly was round with a few too many pastries. The only way to butter him up was to send him his favorite: coconut cake. And Jason needed to be buttered up a lot after a Saturday night.

Charlotte was in charge of table three, seven, eight, and eleven tonight. They were missing Kelly so an extra table was added to everyone's slate. She was in the process of shoving a few loose strands of hair into her bun when she made it across the kitchen to Jason.

The middle aged man was checking the sauce when she got there. The shrimp curled around the center of the plate with a bright orange sauce drizzled on top. She could see leeks somewhere in the mix as well. Table eight's order consisted of two New Zealand Langoustines and a Breast of a Scottish Pheasant.

The smell of the three meals and the kitchen as a whole was almost stifling. Aromas drifted from lobsters being baked the next island over and a potato soup being stirred in a copper pot two cook tops away. Her eyes watered at the familiar scent of freshly sliced onions.

"Thanks Jason," Charlotte acknowledged the sous as he had moved on to approving the next dishes meant for table two. She took her three meals, balancing them atop her dark tray. Making sure her dress shirt and vest were tucked in properly and spotless, Charlotte swung the right kitchen door open leaving the god-like smells behind her.

She prayed her hair was properly placed in her bun. She also hoped her face hadn't perspired too much while inside the steamy kitchen.

The dinner scene beyond the slamming pots and bubbling stews was refined. Customers sat in their leather-cushioned seats in formal attire. Some tables laughed with humble humor others sat in almost complete silence with the occasional sip of champagne.

Charlotte zigzagged through the candlelit tables. Raindrop-shaped lamps sat on inverted shelves on the wall providing a dull and solitary expression to the space. The walls were painted a romantic red accented with dark wood bordering. The carpet Charlotte walked across had swirls of black inside a sandy shaded backdrop.

Table eight was seated beside the ceiling-to-floor tall window near the back of the room. It was still drizzling, to Charlotte's dismay, meaning she'd have to walk to the car garage in the rain because of her negligence to bring a jacket.

She smiled a greeting at the small family seated around the square tabletop apologizing for the wait. The two New Zealand Langoustines went to the man and woman sitting across from each other. The man wore a black suit, an emerald tie brought out the green specks in his blue eyes. The woman, assumed wife from the rock on her left hand, matched her husband with her welcoming jade dress. Her hair was twisted and held with glistening pins, something Charlotte would never afford or even wish to have the skill to pull off.

The third member of the family appeared distant from the other two. She was supposed eleven years old with long, curly, golden locks and a pout on her face granted by undying boredom. It was no wonder why. The parents seemed keen on keeping the topic on grownup affairs and had forgotten to bring anything to entertain the little lady. Or rather, much less forgotten and thought it would be inappropriate in a fine dining restaurant.

Charlotte hated it when parents brought their children, twelve and below, to such a fancy place. It was torture for the kids and quite plainly, kids misbehave when they're bored.

For instance, when Charlotte placed the gravy-drowned pheasant on the table cloth in front of the child, the little girl huffed with her arms crossed. This posture was surely meant to signal her parents that she had no intention on eating what was in front of her.

If only that little brat could see that while she sat in a classy hotel eating a healthy meal other children sat at home eating McDonald's in front of the television. Her purple velvet dress was something most girls her age would have sold their whole collection of Barbies for—dream house and all.

But, most parents that came to Sixteen were hardly the family types. They were politicians, large cooperation owners, and actors. Many of them have probably never eaten a home cooked meal at their kitchen table while laughing about something the neighbor said. They've probably never had a Sunday cookout. It made her want to scoff and roll her eyes.

"Tell me if you need anything," Charlotte said with a soft smile in the parents' direction. They nodded in response but their attention seemed to be focused on the child's rebellious attitude.

/ / /

In the end, the little girl only swallowed a few bites of the bird. Charlotte was happy to see them leave. She was afraid of having a reoccurrence of purposefully children-caused spills. There had been a few instances in her memory when children intentionally dropped their glasses or knocked their plate onto the floor in order to make their parents look at them. Children are corrupt that way.

It was eleven now. Customers had gone and there were dishes to clean. Skillets and pots littered the counters ready for a good scrub. Burnt cheese and vegetables clung to the saucers like baboons to their mothers. They refused to come off.

Tonight, it was Charlotte's turn to wash and Ronda's turn to dry. Jason sat nearby dabbing his sweaty forehead with his stained pocket handkerchief.

Ronda was a lanky woman with wiry blond hair. Her eyes had hallowed in her late twenties and she was going on forty. Ronda's voice was thick through the frequent smoke breaks by the hotel entrance. Her personality was just as rough and ragged. When she went home that night, she would pour herself a glass of aged Cabernet Sauvignon while watching the late night soap operas.

"You two stuck with cleaning duty tonight?" Jason sounded out of breath though he was sitting. His face was still beat red from running around the kitchen all night making preparations. "It was pretty busy tonight so there are a lot of dishes."

"Yup," Ronda agreed her voice sounding like two stones grinding against each other. "I have to be here since it's been a whole month since the last time I've helped clean." Then she added, "I hate cleaning. If either of you saw my apartment you'd think there were five people living there with the amount of junk piled everywhere."

"If that's case," Charlotte scrubbed the difficult pan soaking in the soapy water. "Then I'm glad I volunteered to wash. It would be annoying to have you do it then not have it washed correctly."

Her sleeves were pushed up and her bare arms were streaked in bubbles. Her uniform collar bow was untied and hung loosely around her neck. The black vest wrapped around her was unbuttoned along side the first top buttons of her shirt. She rinsed the mixing bowl in her hands before handing it off to Ronda to dry.

Ronda slapped the towel on the bowl replying with a charming, "Damn straight." She mopped up the dish sloppily and placed it to the side to put away later. "You would have just had to wash them for me anyway, Charlie."

"Ronda, I thought women were supposed to be naturals at cleaning," Jason teased letting airy chuckles escape as the testy woman's lips turned down. The wrinkles on her brow deepened.

"Jason, I'll tell you what I'm good at," she said an old southern accent seeping in through her tone. She pointed a wet knife at him. "I'm good at chopping. Vegetables, meat, anything that needs to be cut up I can take care of. Cleaning and other feminine nonsense is something I don't measure up to."

When Ronda went back to her towel Charlotte smirked. "Is that why your boyfriend has such great domestic abilities to make up for your lack of?" Her eyebrows rose cockily with wit.

"You see, you meant for that to be a crack," Ronda grinned with yellow-stained teeth, "but I have someone to take care of me and make me happy every night. What do you have?" She flicked a dripping whisk in Charlotte's direction sprinkling her. "You have an empty apartment. One of these days you're going to get yourself mugged or raped if you don't get yourself a roommate."

"Ronda, listen to yourself." The dishwater was turning a sick brownish color like polluted clouds. Charlotte would have to change it soon. "The chances of being mugged or raped just because you're alone in your apartment are uncertain. If someone really wanted to do something like that, they wouldn't take the time to see if you lived alone and just take you while you're in the street where no one will care."

"Oh yeah," Ronda's voice dripped with skepticism. "How are you supposed to know whether or not you have a stalker? Some people out there on the streets are messed up. They will spot you one day and want to see you everyday. Soon they'll be following you on the streets. Then they'll follow you to your apartment building. One day they may make it up to your room."

A dubious expression fitted itself on Charlotte's face. "I think you've been watching too many soaps. It's distorting your reality."

The sous bellowed gripping his belly as he jiggled in merriment. Ronda was less than pleased. She placed her fists on either side of her hips and narrowed her eyes at the girl.

"You're pretty mouthy for someone your age." In her mouth she snapped some gum Charlotte hadn't remembered her put in. "Haven't you ever heard to respect your elders?"

They locked eyes. "Haven't you heard that my generation doesn't give respect to people unless they've earned it?" Charlotte's words flowed out with a sly smile. She had been raised in situations where retorts were used habitually. They weren't needed, but they were used.

Her comeback was rewarded with soaked, boney fingers racking through her hair in a congratulating pat. Hair stuck up in strange loops and frizzes when Ronda was finished.

"Kid, you're going to go far in this world," the woman stated, the smell of nicotine dusting across Charlotte's face. "With that sort of attitude, no one will stand in your way. I don't get why you spend all your time working."

Instead of observing the conversation, Jason intercepted. "That would be because colleges don't take girls with just attitude. They want a girl with attitude and money." A calm smirk addressed his mouth as he spoke. Whether because he thought the situation was comical or if it was his way of showing sympathy, Charlotte couldn't tell.

"Oh," Ronda sighed getting back to work once she saw her pile of dishes growing. "So you want an education. You're one of those smart girls who want to go farther in life." Her hip jutted out haughtily as though Charlotte had attacked her pride. It may have had something to do with Ronda's history of running away from home at a young age and hopping from job to job to make a living. Eventually she had found the Sixteen along the way and the monthly payments on her apartment had grown less binding.

"I don't want to be a waitress my whole life," Charlotte's face dropped as her shoulders shrugged. "My mother isn't going to help me pay for college so I have to take care of myself. That's the end of it."

"It sounds like a lot of bull if you ask me," Ronda's lips sneered into a dissatisfied frown. "A lot of bull and work. Neither is good in my opinion."

"Yeah, well…" Charlotte let the conversation go since she knew Ronda wasn't the type to understand. Many people Charlotte's age had college handed to them. And if it wasn't, they didn't have high expectations for themselves in the first place and gave up on college. She wasn't going to ruin her life by letting the opportunity leave her. Charlotte had two good working hands. She would work to get what she wanted. She wanted achievement.

Something she didn't get growing up since someone always took the spotlight.

/ / /

Charlotte slammed her car door shut and put the key in the ignition. When her car shuddered awake, her clock blazed at her in neon numbers 12:13. Late shifts turned early at the Sixteen. She eagerly took the cleaning job ahead of everyone else to get in an extra hour or two on her pay check.

She drove her silver Saab through the rows of cars and down the cement ramp to the ground floor. Traffic wasn't so dreadful at such an early hour. What was normally a thirty minute drive to work at six o'clock only took fifteen. She passed by several pubs seeing a variety of types from giggly groups of girls to men in their business garb stumbling out of the neon archways.

A theater was open for midnight showings. It had lines of people crowding into the cramped sidewalks along the streets. Most of the mass were teenagers wearing the same black T-shirts. A few individuals were getting a little shove happy as some began yelling at their neighbors. Charlotte tried to get a look to see what was playing, but passed by too quickly to read the florescent bulbs above; she could have sworn she saw the word _Underworld_ somewhere.

As she continued down the street, she admitted to herself she didn't have money to splurge on a movie anyway. By the time you paid to get in and bought a drink, she would have already spent enough to buy her two shampoos worth.

And shampoo was a needed priority while seeing a movie wasn't.

Soon she rounded the corner and veered into a parking space along side her apartment building. With her faux leather purse in hand, Charlotte turned off her car and stepped out into the rain. Hours ago the rain was a feathery precipitation now it pelted down on her head and shoulders as she ran on the sidewalk where she nearly landed on a piece of pink bubblegum.

When she made it through the entrance she first checked her mail. She ran through her keychain singling out the one between her car and gym keys. She unlocked the grimy metal locker of 308. The cheap paint was chipped and the number was wearing off. She pulled out the white envelopes inside.

Bills… Taxes were due next week. Go figure.

A long sigh escaped her lips filled with exhaustion. Her contacts were getting sticky with sleep, she realized. Quickly, with the motivation of the warmth and comfort of her bedroom, she turned left up the staircase. She took two steps at a time.

The apartment building wasn't the best, but it was what her paycheck could afford. Few people wrote and carved initials and immature phrases along the faded blue walls as if it were a bathroom stall. She refrained from touching the railing because of her phobia of… any other person in the building. The stairs were narrow and made a tight squeeze if two had to pass each other.

Taking the last few steps one at a time, she finally reached the third floor. By that time her breaths heaved and she realized she needed to push the landlord harder about fixing the elevators. It was always a pain having to walk up that many flights.

Charlotte undid her bun and ran a hand through her shoulder blade-length hair. Knots had formed and a symmetrical wave circled her head from the ponytail tie. Her eyes were already beginning to droop when she pulled out her room key. The familiar turn of the doorknob was so welcoming she almost thought to fall into the doorway and sleep.

Instead, she opened the door and creaked it shut pulling the chain across and dead bolting the lock. She slipped her heeled wingtip shoes on the tile near the door. She wouldn't track anything from the streets into her humble home.

She turned to her apartment illuminated by the streetlights bellow. The kitchen beside the door contained little counter space, a fridge, and a small number of cabinets. Then again, she was the only one who lived there so little was all she needed.

Her table was pitiful only able to tightly seat four. Her living room was even more humble with a love seat and quaint wooden coffee table as her only furnishing and a television pressed against the back wall. There were no pictures hung on the walls with happy memories, there were none to remember. Her walls were a sun-bleached tan color.

On the right wall were two doors. The farthest entered a bathroom so small it could only hold two persons at once. The closest held her bedroom, the room she treasured most.

She went to switch on the light beside the kitchen cabinets, but a sound stopped her.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Charlotte looked at her sink where the handle was twisted slightly and a steady trickle seeped from the faucet. She didn't think she had forgotten to turn off the water this afternoon. In fact, she had plenty of time before she left for work to go through her apartment to make sure all the lights were off.

She turned the lever anyway and took a closer look at the room. The couch looked a little crooked like someone had bumped into it. And the lamp beside her left window had been knocked over. The lampshade rocked loose to the slight breeze of the furnace.

Charlotte stood still. Her face froze as her eyes still scanned the room. She didn't necessarily have a great memory, but she would have remembered bumping into her lamp stand.

There was a time once when she saw a nifty pepper spray device in a gas station. It was pink to make it feminine, conveniently palm-sized, and it could even hang as a key chain. Charlotte didn't purchase it because it was her egg money she would have to spend. Also the thought of mere pepper stopping an insane man from attacking her seemed ludicrous. If she really feared about getting mugged, she should get a license to conceal and carry not buy a tiny can of seasoning.

But in that moment she regretted it.

She should have bought the stupid can and gone without eggs for a week. Self defense is much more important than food. How were you supposed to eat an omelet in the morning if you were dead or beaten until you were immobile?

Reaching across the counter, Charlotte pulled out a cutting knife from one of the drawers keeping her eyes on the room. She couldn't hear anything. No movement. No breathing. The only thing she could perceive was the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. Adrenaline, an amazing bodily chemical, pounded through her limbs waking her up. Her worry over dry contacts vanished.

In sock feet she padded over to the carpet in her living room checking the opposite side of her couch. Nothing. With her back to the exterior wall of the building, she peered across the room where both her bathroom and bedroom doors were closed. Abstract shadows from collected raindrops on the window dripped down the wall. The light was an eerie rust color. It flickered for a moment and Charlotte feared it would evaporate completely leaving her in darkness with something unknown in her apartment.

She debated what to do. She most definitely didn't have the guts to search the rooms herself. The knife in her hand shook enough as it was. Another hand gripped the handle to provide a steadier hold. She lifted her hands and pointed the end of the blade at the two doors.

"C-Come out," she shivered. "I know you're there." Her voice quavered uncertainly. Every nerve in her body screamed at how tense she held her posture. "Come out now or I'll call the police."

Now there was an idea. Call the police. The logical thing to do would be to call the police first then threat. Then again, it could all be her imagination. How many times had she been home alone when she was still in her parent's house and thought someone was downstairs? Many, but there was never actually anyone to report. It was always her mind playing tricks on her. Just imagine the embarrassment of contacting the police and have it be a false alarm. They'd walk in to see her pointing a blade at two empty rooms. Then they'd be really pissed and give her a strict lecture as if she were twelve. The landlord would also have a hissy fit knowing a couple of cops were inside his building. Yeah… it would be mighty humiliating to call the police.

But… when had she ever felt so scared?

Taking a hand off the knife she dug into her pocket and fumbled with her cell phone. "I'm serious." She held the phone up to show as though the person could see through walls. "I have my phone out, I'll call them."

Maybe in five weeks or five years she would look back at herself and laugh at how stupid she was. She highly doubted anyone could be in her apartment. It was possible for an earthquake to move objects around in a room. Or there could be a ghost.

She would much rather a ghost be taunting her at that moment than a human. Or it could be a prank from her friends. Yeah, friends were supposed to do things of that sort.

She heard her doorknob turn. It was such a slow and small movement she could hardly see it, especially in a dimly lit room.

The door to what used to be her sanctuary cracked open with a long _screeech_. She though she was going to faint. In her dizziness she briefly wondered if it was real. Could bad dreams _really_ come true? Was their truly a monster that lived under her bed in grade school?

A figure stepped out from the captivity of her bedroom and stood opposite to her. With the little light provided she could see his noticeably messy ginger hair. Not messy, spiky, sticking up every which way. He was taller, she noticed regrettably. She couldn't quite tell, but she could make up a number of piercings along his nose and ears. There were two in his lip as well. On his forehead he wore a piece of metal with marks engraved on the surface. The man wore a cloak that went from his chin all the way down to his shins.

His presence was unbelievable.

He held himself poised with his hands to his sides. His eyes bore into her like daggers, digging and twisting painfully. He made her so uncomfortable she couldn't move. Her heart stopped. She couldn't breath. Couldn't think. Couldn't function. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth. She was visibly shaking.

She had never tried to understand the phrase 'fight or flight' first hand. It was said so often that its meaning became numb in her brain. It was just a phrase. But now it proved to be entirely more than 'just a phrase'. It was something that stood for those split deadening seconds when you're faced with a horrific predicament. Your choice determined the outcome. And sometimes the outcome was whether you survived the event or not.

This is what went through her mind. Well, many things went through her mind in those few seconds that seemed to freeze in time. Things like _I wonder if I put my gym uniform in the laundry basket to wash for work tomorrow _and _I need to get more toothpaste, I've been getting low_ and even _I'm pretty sure my period is about to start soon, should I consider wearing a light pad to bed?_

All thoughts considering were pretty useless to the situation, but they were there nonetheless.

Charlotte watched the man a few moments more before gripping the phone in her hand. Rather, it was much less a grip but a twitch to wake her from her trance.

With rigid movements she flipped open her phone and pushed dial. Her fingers had never trembled so much in her life. Not even when she was in speech class giving a PowerPoint and her hand wobbled something fierce when she motioned at her diagram.

Her thumb hadn't even managed to press the first one of 9-1-1 when her head was hit against the wall behind her. A smashing noise sounded at the back of her head as she realized that she'd cracked through the drywall. A second passed when she worried about what she would tell her landlord and how much it would cost to repair. Then she comprehended her situation.

The man who was just standing reverse to her by her bedroom door was now standing in front of her. His hand clasped around her throat dangerously restricting her airways. Her knife had clattered on the tiles during the blow and her phone was now in the hands of the man.

His hands seized the appliance with such an unyielding hold she thought it would snap. For a moment he studied the phone, turned it this way and that, looking at the single number she had typed, and then back at her.

From this proximity Charlotte could count the three piercings through his nose and seven in each ear. The headband he wore had four vertical scores with a long scratch through the middle. It resembled an oversized tally mark. His eyes blazed a malicious hue with his intent observation. She noticed that he had three rings around each pupil.

Within the blink of an eye, her phone was crushed in his palm. Splitters of plastic, bits of computer chips, and battery fluid ejected from his fist. His gaze never strayed from her face and his hand never left her throat.

The hand grew tighter as he leaned in closer and opened his mouth to speak.

/ / /

I believe this is a great start! I'm already ending on a cliffhanger to make sure I ensnare readers!  
You already made it through an entire chapter! Congratulations! Also to add, Alizera Song helped to edit this story and my terrible grammar mistakes and also… Just mistakes that just didn't make sense. So I give her credit!

**Question: What will the Mystery Man say?**

It's actually not a very hard question, though I know you probably won't be able to get it… It's a terrible first question. I would ask who the lab man is and how he is connected to the whole plot, but I think I will ask that at a later date. That's a very GOOD question and will be saved until the best time. Although, you can try to answer it now if you'd like. You just won't get the answer until WAY later. Also, the reason for the question is… I've always loved it when I read other fanfics and they have questions at the end of each chapter for the readers to participate.

I will also attempt to answer most of your comments and thank those who favorite, comment, and alert. If I don't, I give you all permission to come after me and threaten my life in any way you prefer.

To make a note about this story, I plan to make this out into something very deep. I'm not only trying to improve my writing style, but also the… depth of my work. I want there to be some form of meaning behind everything. So, even though I write for my own enjoyment and for others, I will still try to make this significant. Not just another fanfic.

With those final words, I wish you all a happy New Years!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey there everyone! I'm so excited for chapter two since this will include actual characters from Naruto. So happy! I need to inform people that I plan to update each chapter within three weeks or a month. I'm writing chapter four at the moment so that I won't feel too pressured with having no back ups :/ I have another month to finish chapter four which I have only just begun and start up chapter five… Hopefully I can get to work like a good girl and the words will flow!

Probably not.

In other news… Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

**RECAP:**

_From this proximity Charlotte could count the three piercings through his nose and seven in each ear. The headband he wore had four vertical scores with a long scratch through the middle. It resembled an oversized tally mark. His eyes blazed a malicious hue with his intent observation. She noticed that he had three rings around each pupil. _

_Within the blink of an eye, her phone was crushed in his palm. Splitters of plastic, bits of computer chips, and battery fluid ejected from his fist. His gaze never strayed from her face and his hand never left her throat. _

_The hand grew tighter as he leaned in closer and opened his mouth to speak._

/ / / O

"Anata wa dare desu ka?"*

His voice was rich and profound like the darkest of velvet. It wasn't angry but suggested a pinch of annoyance and weighed heavily with intimidation. As it should have. He spoke as though his words could cut through glass, and the possibility wasn't denied.

Charlotte blinked. She wondered if the panic of the situation was marring her hearing. Or better put, it may have been due to her oncoming concussion. Either reason, she realized the sentence the threatening man stated never clicked in her brain. The distorted question entered her mind and exited within an instant. There was hardly a moment to even attempt to piece any of the word fragments together. Was the man even speaking English?

His ringed pupils still focused on her form with an intensity Charlotte thought might break her much like his fist had done to her phone only seconds ago. The memory of cell shards shooting from his closed palm was still fresh in her mind. The busted bits lay on the cream carpet as a pile of rubble near her wobbling feet.

In fact, he didn't even seem phased by the portions of plastic that poked into the tender skin of his palm. By his fixated expression, it didn't even appear that the pain had even registered into his mind.

And she was shocked to see in the pumpkin stained room, that his finger nails had been coated with a pomegranate nail polish. How quaint.

"Dakara, koreha baishunpudesu ka?"** Behind the pierced maniac, another baritone babbled. The voice, unlike the one in front of her, sounded agitating. Much like a scratchy sweater on a humid summer's day. From her position, Charlotte caught an white-haired fellow leaning against her wall straddling where the kitchen tile and living room carpet met.

She took in the sight of a second intruder like a pill. He stood high and proud with a sneer she detested with a passion she had never known before. His head cocked upwards as he seemed to scoff at her form and his arms haughtily crossed over his partly bare chest. Like the man before her, he wore the same cloak—which she was beginning to make out red clouds adorn into the fabric. Unlike the man in front of her, though, he had the front of the clothing open to reveal a segment of his torso.

Also exposed from his undone garment was a metal plate that resembled the former man's, only worn around his neck. A beaded piece of jewelry dangled from his throat with a peculiar pendant as well.

The worst part about the man excluding his disturbing grin and exposed chest was the triple bladed scythe he gripped. It stood by his side, heavy and horrendous. The sharp points curled into a sadistic smile with a twinkle in the low lighting. Oddly enough, it seemed comfortable at his side. Almost natural.

Unseen to her, blocked by the ginger, was the owner of the padded footsteps stepping out of her bedroom. The floor popped at the unwelcome weight so Charlotte imagined a spectacularly large person positioned in her bedroom doorway. She tensed further. Inside, she questioned just how many guests she had.

The hand over her throat constricted crossly. The eyebrows of the man angled dangerously low as he repeated a little more ardently, "Anata wa dare desu ka?"*

Her eyes traveled up to meet his strange pupils. With a difficult gulp of air that seemed to claw at the walls of her throat, she finally choked, "I don't understand." Then she added with a crumb of vexation, "I speak _English_. Don't you speak English at all?"

Her voice, Charlotte found, quivered against all attempts. She didn't want to appear timid and lose whatever respect they may have had for her. Rather, she wished to act like her usual, sarcastic self and keep hold of any small amount of dignity she had left. Still, it took an immense effort to keep her eyes somber and sharpened when in reality she wanted to carry her view anywhere but to his eyes.

But as she stared into his eyes and he glared into hers, Charlotte saw that he was calculating. What he was calculating, she wished she knew. Maybe he was gauging the amount of fear in her tone or the extent of her fortitude. Oh, how she hoped she had a great measure of moxie in her. She could scarcely withstand the pressure he put her under.

Eventually, his head dipped a tad lower in an almost inquisitive motion. "What is your name?" Even in a different language his voice was still soul gripping. It made something deep inside of her want to shrivel up and vanish—another feeling she had never experienced.

Her breath hitched and she prayed he didn't notice.

Charlotte made an effort to wet her lips. Her mouth was dry and sticky and her tongue felt like rubber against her chapped lips. Even when she swallowed, nothing went down.

Part of her wanted to scream. Scream and ask him how he had the right to ask for her name when he was the one intruding. Or why? Why did someone like him need to know her name? Wasn't breaking and entering one of those hobbies where you try not to make contact with the owner of the household, much less ask—demand—for their name?

The other part of her was completely traumatized and couldn't remember how to speak much less her name. This part of her was also the one that wanted to bend over backwards to his command.

It was this part of her that made the words, "Charlotte Chapman," cut through her taut throat.

He didn't say anything in response nor did his companions. While they digested her name, Charlotte mentally slapped herself for spitting information. She didn't even give a false name, though, if they wanted to be thorough, they could have just taken her driver's license. Or they could have gone through her things beforehand.

Scratch that. They had been searching through her belongings.

She remembered the faucet that had been turned on. They had been in her kitchen. And then there was her russet sofa that had been crooked and the knocked over lamp. They had been in her living room. They had exited her bedroom.

She didn't even want to know what they had seen in there.

The man examined her closely with unblinking eyes that unnerved her. She began to feel progressively self-conscious being under his scope. Inside she was begging to move. Blink, twitch, breathe, any physical movement would have sufficed at that moment, but even the slightest motion felt criminal—ironically so.

It appeared the man still had something on his mind. Charlotte could tell by the second questioning tilt of his head. But instead of letting him commence in his question, she took a deep, shaky breath that vibrated through the still air.

"Listen," Charlotte peeped up with a skipping heart beat. She felt sick like her stomach had tied itself into a knot in all the excitement. "You want to ask me a question," she claimed knowing full well he did. She noticed his gaze was stronger when she spoke as he focused in on nothing but her face and voice. "Isn't there any other way to get me to talk than to restrict my airways?"

He pondered. The expression wasn't shown on his facial feature but in his eyes and silence. Charlotte imagined what could be going through his thoughts. Then stopped. She realized inside the head of the enemy was a dangerous place to station yourself. The decision was entirely his to choose. And he may choose whichever path he wanted because he had the upper hand. He knew it. She clearly knew it. She couldn't change those ill-fated odds.

However, she felt the need to point out: "There is really no reason to keep me in such a barbaric hold. We _are_ civilized." Her eyes scanned his face for signs of folding. His eyes scanned her face for desperation. There was indeed some present.

_Well_, she thought to herself resentfully, _some people are civilized._ In all honestly, Charlotte couldn't include breaking into someone's apartment and slamming them into a wall civilized. In fact, that was wholly barbaric.

But she kept that to herself.

The hand on her throat went slack. Though she had been the supplicant suggesting a change, there wasn't a rational thought that he would take her statement sincerely.

Charlotte took his relaxed, and much further positioned, stance to press an unstable palm to her throat. A bruising effect was already taking place on her sensitive skin. She could feel its throbbing ache dispersing from one side of her neck to the other.

How could she explain that kind of injury to someone?

She backed off the wall as she tried to regain a steady breath intake. Her heart was still failing to beat at a typical tempo; it debated between skipping and hammering against her ribcage.

Her arm reached out to seek balance from the wall. Bloodless fingers sank into a hole the size of her head in the drywall. Charlotte had to do a double take. The man had literally crashed her head into the wall. Enough to leave a fairly fine sized dimple in the plasterboard.

For the second time in that adrenaline-pumped event, her mind skipped over what she could possibly tell the landlord.

Turning her stiff neck back to her company, Charlotte began to make out other shapes in the shadows.

The first, she stumbled upon her bedroom doorway where she had supposed a large person had settled. A large person indeed. In truth, this man shrunk timber. Actually, it would fit better if he were made of two solid trees grown and entangled together by the amount of mass on his frame. All Charlotte could imagine was the quantity of muscle he obtained just by catching a view of his bulky neck.

That wasn't all that startled her. There were also the bizarre facial features the man bared. Unique, peculiarly placed, markings bore into his cheeks. His hair stood up on end in a gravity-defying way. Then there were his eyes. They weren't necessarily large, definitely not large enough for his size, but they were intense. And beady and orbed like a marble.

There was also a cynical smile that she could see poking out from the top of the cloak collar. A uniform set of choppers winked at her. It was saturated with merriment that Charlotte felt was aimed at her. Much like an inside joke. Only he was the lone soul that knew the punch line.

Another metal slab was attached to this man as well, on his hat-like, head garb. Charlotte was beginning to see a fashion trend between her foes.

And if she didn't know any better, she would think his skin was a shade of light cerulean.

In the streetlight spotlight she could distinguish what appeared to be some kind of object wrapped tightly in white bandages. He lugged it over his shoulder as if it were as effortless as lifting a bat. Instead, it was just as tall as him. And probably just as weighted as it looked.

Charlotte hadn't even been aware of another person's presence. The sight of the fourth someone shocked her. Not just because she hadn't known they were there the entire time, but because after three men, it was a woman.

She wore the same, apparently stylish, clouded apparel swaddling her body. Charlotte found her face to be the most fascinating despite the detached appearance she held. The edge of her lips tipped downward almost meagerly. A minuscule ray of light reflected off of what seemed to be a metal bead just beneath her insufficient frown. A piercing perhaps.

Then there was her hair. It was short—cropped off near her shoulders. It was colored this ultramarine blue, powdery like its natural element. On the right side of her head was a flower. A simple, white flower, made of folded paper, was clipped into her bun.

Charlotte could see that her eyes, cool and collected, were feathered with blessedly thick eyelashes. Anther curious fact about the woman's eyes was that they were not focused on her, but on the pierced and overbearing man instead. Odd seeing how Charlotte was the individual of the hour according to the other three pairs centering in on her.

All in all, she saw this specific intruder to be the most enchanting.

"I can't believe you can just let the whore go." Charlotte visibly jumped at the complaint from the scythe-wielding man. His face was twisted into a grimace of utter displeasure. The fingers around his weapon twitched anxiously. "If you need me to, I can take care of her."

Charlotte's breath leaped to an entirely different level—it challenged the troubled breath of one who had just swam the English Channel. She saw the silver-haired man's lips coil into a genuine grin and his digits wrap tighter around his blades' handle.

To her astonishment and delight, the pierced man, as she was getting used to referring him as, spoke up. "No," his voice hadn't sounded irate, but it was as still firm as steel. "Because of the predicament we have been placed in, we can not kill her."

Some small piece of Charlotte calmed at this fact. People have been brave by saying that if they were ever put in a situation they would "rather be killed than to be kidnapped or give up secrets". But, those were just words. Words you put in your mouth, but if you were put to the test, wouldn't have acted upon.

In all essence, Charlotte wished she could act on such words. '_Be a brave soul!_' the insensible part of her mind seemed to scream at her, '_Don't go without a fight!_'The truth of the matter was that her flesh would very much love to stay alive. And the news that they would keep her alive, even if it was just for the moment, was as enormous enough of a relief that she released a sigh.

"The only reason I came out here to watch," the tall man in her bedroom doorway began with a jestful tone, "was because I thought something interesting would happen."

It was shocking to here the big man's voice. Or at least it was shocking to hear that it wasn't as deep and startling as she imagined. Instead, he smiled as he spoke clearly and pronounced. And his beaming sharp teeth still held that cruel sense of humor that made Charlotte feel uncomfortable. The words he spoke of did little to make her feel better.

The pierced man didn't seem remorseful towards the others' lack of interest. He shut his ringed eyes for a moment out of exasperation, perhaps? He apparently didn't have a keen liking towards his companions. When he reopened his eyes, he faintly repositioned his body towards her living room. His eyes were still locked on hers. "We'll talk. Civilized." He spoke less as though he were making a mere claim and more as if he was mocking her past words.

Charlotte watched as he wandered through the room and perched himself on her couch. She once loved that couch. Once upon a time, when Charlotte had been furniture searching, she found the couch for a good price in a newspaper ad. She fell in love with its cocoa color and lesser zeros. The cushions weren't half bad either—not too soft and not too firm. Perfect for her keister.

But as he sat down, she imagined her personal value for the seat decreasing. It wasn't the same anymore. Because now his keister was relaxed in her perfect cushions.

Charlotte swallowed with her dry throat. "I'll turn on the lights. If you don't mind." She wanted to turn the lights for her own sake. If she had to stand any longer with these creeps in the dark, she was going to loose it. The latter part of her request was out of courtesy. However, in all honesty, if he did mind, she wouldn't care. She would turn on the cursed lights anyway. She deserved that much.

And so without another word, she shuffled into her kitchen; her socks made a _shff shff_ against the tile. When she reached the switch on the far wall, her finger lingered as her eyes drifted to the door just inches away.

Charlotte imagined herself with just a speck more courage. She would take a sharp turn for the door and sprint her little heinie out of there. She wondered if they would catch her. Could she put up a fight? If she screamed, would any of her neighbors come to her rescue? They say to yell 'Fire!' because people are more likely to respond. What would they do with her if she did try to run?

There were endless outcomes to be honest. So many she would never discover. Because without a doubt, what the pierced man said next was more chilling than either end of the globe.

"You can't escape," his voice crawled across the room and to her ears. Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck. "If you attempt, we will be forced to use harsher tactics."

It wasn't just the spooky reality that he could tell what she was thinking, even with his back turned, but also the truth behind what he stated so plainly.

He wasn't joking. And 'hasher tactics' was a nicer way of putting it.

Her finger didn't wait waste any more time on the switch as she flicked it up and the fluorescent lights flickered on. In her living room, she had to adjust to the sudden flash of light from her ceiling fan. The tall man—who she was amazed to see was truly as blue as she had thought—had flipped the light switch closest to his body.

As Charlotte evaluated the situation, she realized she had no choice but to grab a chair from her table and position herself in front of the television. She wasn't going to cuddle up next to Mr. Sinister on her sofa. And she wasn't going to pace in front of everyone like a college professor giving a lecture.

As she made her way across the room, wooden chair in hand, in her peripherals she saw the tall, blue man step aside from her doorway. As he shuffled more to the side of the other weapon-wielding man in the room, the only thing that would have made the situation worse happened.

Out of her bedroom sauntered out more intruders.

Had someone forgotten to inform her of the parade marching through her apartment? Or maybe someone forgot to mention the circus was in town. With this band of freaks, they looked like actors in the ring climbing out of a miniature clown car. There was no end to their charade or their numbers.

Five more people strolled right out into her living room. Five more people had been listening the entire time. Five more people were present to attack her. And five more people were there to observe her as she stood there gaping.

Charlotte shuddered. Noticeably.

She had an audience. A grand audience. Or better put, it wasn't an audience, it was a jury. She was standing in front of her jury of which were waiting to name her guilty. She didn't know how she could be put in such a situation. Or how she could feel like the guilty one at all times. But they managed to display miracles before her.

With a shake of her head and denial pitting in the bottom of her stomach, she asked, "Who are you?"

"We," began the pierced man his eyes still as captivating as before, "will not answer any questions until you give our location."

If there had ever been a moment when Charlotte had been ever more confused, at that time, she was having a rather difficult time remembering it.

Her eyebrows knitted together in a baffled, and probably comical, expression. She literally plopped down into her hard, table chair and bent forward. Her pale and chilly fingers tangled into her mass of hair as she allowed blood flow to the brain.

Everyone else in the room settled into her living room as if they owned the place. Her extra three chairs in the kitchen were scooted and sat in. One of the chair takers, Charlotte had noticed, was the tall man with a cerulean skin tone. He propped his weapon against her wall and crossed his arms in an amused sort of way.

On the couch, no one else bothered to sit next to tall, pierced, and scary. Instead, one had seating himself on the armrest on the opposite end of the couch. She debated roaring at him to get off less he dents it. But her fear of making an empty threat made her decide otherwise.

The man, the one she felt a strong sense of yearning to yell at, had a younger complexion than most in the room. He was a blond. His hair wasn't the washed out, dishwater blond, but a clouded honey hue. Though, some strands of his hair hung over the left portion of his face. Annoyingly so. From where she sat, she could see that his eyes—eye was just as blue as a Jay's feather.

His posture was leaned, or really, slouched against the back of her couch. Even his arms folded in a relaxed fashion across his chest. He also had a very repelling smile. His lips spread long and kinked at the ends in a very egotistical manner. She found it even more distressing and irksome than the white-haired fellow's.

Even more disturbing than the young man's expression was the style another visitor of hers sat. He took seating in front of her couch on the carpet. He sat Indian style with his elbows positioned on his knees in a very juvenile display. Even more unique than his immature demonstration was the cheery orange mask he wore. It spiraled as if someone had given him a permanent swirly in his adolescent days.

He was covered in all black with the exception of a malachite dyed scarf around his neck. And most unlike his comrades, he didn't seem to wear a cloak.

Charlotte straightened her back and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "You have some sense of humor. Claiming you have no idea where you are and playing dumb I mean." She rubbed her hands over her cheeks in frustration as her stare connected with his target board eyes.

He didn't avert her gaze and met her head on. "If you think I am being humorous you are immensely mistaken."

His voice was very tight. Almost as if she had said something to offend him. Or put her on his bad side. Charlotte took his deadly glare as something to consider when she tried to word her next sentence nicely.

"You can't expect me to believe that all of you broke into my apartment without knowing where you were," her lips were tight in controlled annoyance. "Not knowing my name is one thing, but not knowing your location is pretty preposterous. I'm not answering a stupid question."

"We didn't break into your apartment," someone sounded from her kitchen. The unknown speaker was one of the others who took seat in her kitchen chairs. With his blasé tone and scrutiny it was hard for Charlotte to comprehend what he was thinking. That, and this guy had the most gorgeous red hair she had ever seen. His locks were of such a pure scarlet, it should have made red wine envious.

She found him to be a strangely beautiful man. Strangely because she had never once thought of a man as beautiful. It was out of character and up right wrong. So instead, she found him to be an attractive, somewhat feminine-looking fellow with a… Slenderer body under his cloak.

With this decided, she looked into his bister irises coated with healthy eyelashes. Deep within herself, she allowed herself to be a jealous. But only a little.

He matched the dubious look she shot him with a scowl. Not a full grimace, but a petty pull at the corners of his lips. "We were transported here."

A dry chuckle brushed through her throat at his declaration. "Yeah, in a taxi. Or more fitting, a white van with tinted windows." Her sarcastic joke rattled through her crowd without even a snicker in return. Actually, she reaped a few addled faces. The others were a bit hoarser towards her.

"It was a teleportation." Charlotte looked to her left. There she spotted a man, close in age to herself by appearance, propped against her wall near her bathroom door. He was watching her with penetrating eyes, which to her seemed a little bloodshot.

By the sound of his voice, he was a very restricted man. One who tethers everything of himself close by on a short leash. A solitaire.

His hair was sliced off just above his shoulders. The sooty shade of his mane reminded her of the somber tone of the night. The metal plate that reflected between the strands of his bangs held a carving of a snail-like design. Of course, it was not lacking the long strike through the center to ruin the original purpose of the drawing.

"Teleportation," Charlotte repeated with a bite in her tone.

"Kisame and I were traveling to Fire Country," he added. He was still focused completely on her movements watching for any fault in her emotions. "Then a surge of lightning crashed on top of us."

"Yeah!" The scythe wielding man bellowed. He gripped the back of her couch in a rigid fist that made Charlotte cringe. "Kakuzu was going on about some fucking bounty and the next thing we know we're being shocked like fucking crazy!" He rubbed his neck enraged. "It hurt like a bitch!"

"It could have only been teleportation," confirmed probably the scariest voice Charlotte had ever heard. In the back of the room, against the wall on the right, there stood a _massively_ built man. He was just about as immense as the blue man only much, much more intimidating. He didn't show much skin. A mask covered most of his face except that of the bridge of his nose and around his eyes. What flesh was shown was dark. But it wasn't a glowing tan one gets from a few days a week at the tanning parlor, but from extreme exposure from the sun.

His voice, instead of coming out crisp and fresh, vibrated out from his torso making it the deepest bass ever to have beaten against Charlotte's eardrums. And just the way the riled wrinkles between his eyes never soothed made her think of just how pissed off he was at that moment.

"So, uh," Charlotte glanced around the room with a surprising straight face. "Which asylum did you escape from? Seriously, if you tell me the name, I can call them up." But then she'd have to use the payphone near the stairs. And that was past the whole room of insanity stained bodies in the room.

"Take this seriously, un!" Bellowed the blonde sitting a little straighter as his voice rose.

"I am taking this seriously!" She yelled back hardly making note of his speech impediment. "Teleportation, lightening shooting from the sky, speaking in different languages, hitting my head against the wall, the weird outfits," She counted a whole handful before throwing her hands up. "You guys are the ones who aren't being serious!"

"You think we're lying to you," The pierced man observed with flecks of irritation working its way into his tone.

Charlotte graced him with wide eyes of incredulity, "Duh. Who would believe you? You're all freaks!"

Just before charlotte was sure the look in the ginger's eyes were meant for her death, another voice spoke out.

"_She does make a very obvious point_."

All breath left her lungs as she stared at the atrocity that suddenly materialized. A plant-like structure surrounded the face and shoulders of a man. The 'man' was split down the middle black and white. The mop of hair on his head was a shade of green that was just as pure as that of grass. And his expression was solemn with a mix of considerate thoughtfulness.

And worst of all, only half of his body was protruding out from her wall.

It frightened Charlotte so much she zipped out of her chair putting an astonished hand to her mouth. Her stomached dropped so quickly, she thought she was going to have stroke.

"W-What… What is that? What's going on? How can he do that?" Her voice grew louder with each question as she gawked at them all.

"Jutsu!" Was the simple answer the juvenile man on the ground chirped with his cheerful voice. He seemed to bounce in joy to be able to help even just this once.

Charlotte gave him a stupefied face shaking her head. "What is that? Juice-oo, is that some sort of voodoo magic trick?"

The woman, who had taken her place behind the pierced man, was the one who had spoken out of the sea of stunned faces. "Are you saying you don't know what jutsu is?"

Partly astonished by the angelic voice that passed through the woman's pierced lips, Charlotte took a moment to respond. She finally stuttered out crossly, "D-Does it look like I know what it is?"

A moment passed. Everyone sat still as the silence overwhelmed the young woman standing in front of the criminals. Each person held something like astonishment in their eyes. Charlotte's face scrunched in impatience more and more as time continued. They maintained this condition for a number of minutes. Much to Charlotte's annoyance.

"Is it possible for jutsu not to exist in this place?" asked the man in her wall. Though his voice had been deep and raspy before, it was clearer this time. He looked to his comrades as they contemplated his question.

"Many people walk the streets below us," rubbed the voice of the sharp-toothed chap. "But none of them have chakra signatures. Neither does this girl. Even non-ninja citizens should have a faint aura."

Charlotte stood baffled by the giant's words. "Excuse me, chakra and ninja?" her voice reeked of her utter confusion. "You guys are speaking absolute nonsense."

Another pause in her jury. It seemed that with every sentence she spoke, they became increasingly troubled. And with each of their comments, Charlotte's mind grew further clouded. For her to assemble the puzzle in front of her was like trying to make her way in a maze in a dense fog. So many possibilities and chances, but no system in the confusion. The only way to make it is to feel your way through blindly.

"So you're saying," The pieced man paused for a moment choosing the right words to declare, "that you have no understanding of ninja in this place."

His eyes were so alert and resolute that Charlotte found herself shifting her eyes to the window. The rain was growing fainter as droplets slowly slithered down the glass. However, though she couldn't see the clouds with the obstruction of the neighboring apartment building, she could see dim flashes of lightning coming from what was the assumed West. There were more storms to come. She frowned a little at the thought of thunder waking her from her night's sleep. It was already just shy of one in the morning; she would need as much sleep as she could muster since she had work in the morning.

But she still had the obstacle of the ten trespassers stealing her precious dreaming hours.

"Ninja are something I would call," she drifted off struggling through her vocabulary. The late hour was beginning to affect her brain functioning. "Folklore. Ninja were in effect long ago. There are no such things today. And I've never heard of ninja being able to have…" she stole a glance at the creature through her wall, "… Such abilities as you possess." Her eyes landed on the pierced man again. "And in this day and age, 'ninja' is used more as a symbol of… Something awesome."

She felt incredibly lame for the last tidbit of information. 'Something awesome'? Mentally smacking herself in the forehead, she realized that the overwhelming shock of the moment was growing thin. Her adrenaline wasn't pumping as frequently as it should and the weight of her day was pushing against her eyelids. The only thing keeping her from falling asleep in front of her audience was her determination and pure aggravation.

"Something… Awesome…" He repeated clearly offended. "Our title here is used lightly."

"Obviously," she agreed fully. "If only people knew that ninja were actually feebleminded jerks who broke into apartments only to intimidate young women," her voice dripped in her 'weeping damsel in distress' tone. "They would use it to its full power."

The air seemed to grow edgy with her rude remark. If she heard correctly, she may have even received a growled cursing from one of her new buddies. She took in their cross expression greedily knowing they were getting just as upset as she was. It felt good now that they were suffering together rather than just herself all by her lonesome.

"None of this explains how we got here," referred the attractive redhead in the back. The conversation was turning for the worst. It was best to switch back to the main objective. "Could it all just be a coincidence?"

Charlotte leaned over and braced her elbows on the back of her chair. Her eyes scanned over the lot taking in their consideration. Really, she didn't know how these people came into her home. Coincidence seemed correct, but farfetched. She could only imagine if they had landed in her neighbors' apartment. Or even the elderly lady's down the hall. They would probably give the poor woman a heart attack and then wreak havoc as they wished while she lay sprawled on the floor.

No. With her, they were kept under control—even as minute as it was. They hadn't harmed her all that much and the damage was minor so far. She was handling the matter with shock and sarcastic banter, but it was much more preferable than going into hysterics. Though, maybe not as appropriate seeing how they had a grudging manner about them.

The fact still lay with the barrier between them. Neither of them knew the reason they were there. And both she and the others were utterly mystified by their differences. Jutsu was something unbelievable to Charlotte while the club of crazies could hardly comprehend the thought of no chakra.

So the question rose: Why her?

Why was this girl so cleverly chosen for their destination? What was so special? What was her purpose in the great scheme of things? It seemed too impossible that something like this would come in such a grand fluke, but where was the evidence to prove against it?

"It is more believable to assume, at this moment, everything is a coincidence." The man with the dark hair to her right claimed with clearance. His eyes shut smoothly as he smirked without humor. "Or a complete accident."

"So what are we to do?" Asked the sweet voice of the man projecting out of her living room wall. But his voice, she found, turned dark and gruff again as he indicated, "_It's not as if we can walk among these people. We'd immediately be spotted by authorities_."

"We could easily take on those pussies," hooted the bumptious, white-haired male with open laughter. "Without chakra, they'll be no fucking problem."

The angelic voice of their lone female comrade rang out to disagree with the fellow. "They might be an easy defeat," her ultramarine eyebrows angled lower, "But we cannot have the distraction of constant battle when we must find a way back to our own world."

"Indeed," the pierced man lowered his head some with his eyes closed in thought. Charlotte thought his face to be gentler without the constant diversion of his dangerous eyes. "That is why, for the time being, we will stay here with Ms. Chapman."

That was enough to bring Charlotte back to the world of the living. Sleepiness forgotten she erected in her post and stared at the man panicked. "What? You guys can't stay here!" She was mildly happy to hear a few complaints from others as well.

His eyes opened once again. The ferocity of his stare upon her was enough to make her squirm and step back. "This place is different than our own world. We do not know how it functions. Without this knowledge, we find ourselves at a slight disadvantage. However, if we are to stay put in your home, we will be hidden and will not have to engage into battle. We will use this calm environment to find a solution to our predicament. Until it is solved, you will be put under careful watch." His eyes narrowed, as if it were possible, his glare intensified even more. "You will not be allowed to speak to anyone about us. Our location to be kept in utmost secrecy. Any treachery or attempts to escape will be dealt with severe punishment."

Charlotte gulped bitterly as she returned his suspicious gaze with an enraged glower. The hands at her side fisted. Her palms were used as a stress relief as she dug her nails in agonizingly. Her nose wrinkled ferociously.

He didn't amount her anger to any threat as he asked in a confident fashion, "Do I make myself clear?"

Her grimace magnified. She bit back, "Clear as crystal."

/

* "Who are you?"

** "So, this is the prostitute?" (Really, I wanted him to say whore… But Google translate apparently against that word for some strange reason…)

Woo! Chapter two is finished! This makes me so happy that I get to update today. No clue people. I hope you enjoyed it and that I didn't make too many mistakes! Charlotte has her knees deep in a big mess now! I'm excited for this story. Definitely going to be one of my favorites.

Reasoning behind sudden language change will be explained in later chapters. I'm pretty sure that I kept everyone in character. If you notice anyone beginning to get out of character INFORM ME IMMEDIATELY! I want to know! D:

**Question: How do you think the Akatsuki will react to Charlotte going to work tomorrow?**

You know… For these first few chapters, I really don't think I'm going to be able to give really good question. I do not blame you guys for not answering.

**Responses to Reviews:**

**Anonymous:** It's a shame you didn't have a name :( As for a Deidara fanfic? Let's just say that the idea is very much open. I typically love and write romance fanfics only this first part will not be romance. I figure that with everything being confusing and lost during this Part 1 there won't be much romance. However… :] Part 2 is open for romance. I have a couple people in mind…

**Dina Sana:** Thanks! I do hope to continue, and pick up some more followers along the way :) I hope you continue to read my store and enjoy it.

**Blackcatgirl:** First I want to thank you so much! I think that as I get farther into the plot line that my story gains its individuality. Sending the Akatsuki to a different world isn't very original. But I think that with a little tweaking every story can achieve its own uniqueness. And I'm glad you like the detail! You have no clue how much I fret over it. I'm happy to have it realized.

**SultanaV:** Sniff sniff… You understand me! You're review made me so happy! You listed the exact reasons I wanted to post this fanfic. Realistic and different. Many of the fanfics out there about the Akatsuki coming to our world is made up of a bunch of Mary-sues and they're mostly impractical. Which is the reason I decided that I was going to write a fanfic about it and it would… make sense… At least as much sense as a fanfic can! Ha ha! I'm really happy that you enjoyed my first chapter, I really hope that the second has met up to your standards

I plan to answer reviews as well as I can. And maybe later on I won't be able to answer all of them… But I'll try my hardest! I've just ALWAYS loved it when authors responded to reviews so I decided to do the same. It gets past that Author/Reader barrier and let's us all connect in our special way :3

Boy that sounded cheesy.

In any case. I trust you will all have a good rest of the week and weekend. Until we meet again. Reviews are encouraged and read continuously until they stop making me want to cry happy tears! See ya!


	3. Chapter 3

****EDIT: I absentmindedly forgot to add the question when I posted this chapter! I have done so now, and I'd really like you all to take a look and answer c: Important.**

Hello all you pretty people! You have all graced me with more reviews and favorites. This has made me very happy. And some of you—more of you!—have began to answer the questions I thought no one would respond to! Honestly, I believed that most people skipped over the author's notes… I know I sometimes do myself. I am ashamed… Also, might I add that sometimes you guys don't put down that you're answering the question… and the way you word your answers make me think you're unhappy with the story D: It scared me. But then I saw you were just answering my questions. And then I banged my head on my desk. So stupid of me.

So here is chapter 3! And the recap is provided thanks to the lovely advice from **blackcatgirl**. Before I posted chapter two, I was literally debating adding a recap. Thanks to your review I got my answer! Thanks so much! And I hope everyone enjoys the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

**RECAP:**

_Charlotte gulped bitterly as she returned his suspicious gaze with an enraged glower. The hands at her side fisted. Her palms were used as a stress relief as she dug her nails in agonizingly. Her nose wrinkled ferociously. _

_He didn't amount her anger to any threat as he asked in a confident fashion, "Do I make myself clear?"_

_Her grimace magnified. She bit back, "Clear as crystal."_

/ / / E

"-With a twenty percent chance of scattered thunderstorms. Last night's weather caused minor accidents and there was a report of a power outage where a branch was blown into the power lines. Power crews say it may still be a few more hours until they can return power to the block. Three inches of rain was recorded…"

Groggy eyelids lifted to the sound of morning greetings from a radio alarm. Charlotte let the man go on about insignificant floods for another minute before tapping the 'Alarm Off' button with a limp arm.

So tired. She was so tired. She couldn't quite remember what time she fell asleep. It must have been late. But what mainly caused her to loose sleep was that horrible nightmare. A nightmare filled with dangerous delinquents and frightening frustrations.

She tossed in her brown and blue patterned sheets for a few moments. Thoughts passed through her sub consciousness. Thoughts that consisted of curses directed towards a certain coworker named Ronda. Because of that wicked woman and her over imaginative brain, Charlotte was lethargic with a night filled with an awful dream. Because of her needless rants on perilous apartments and merciless muggers, Charlotte's night had been unpleasant.

She would cast her revenge on that woman the next time she worked…

With her mind resting on the word 'work', she began to bring herself to a sitting position. Running fingers through her disheveled hair, Charlotte clumsily got herself out of her rumpled comforter. Her bones popped protestingly from her ankles to her neck while she stretched. Her hand dropped from the tangled nest on her head to rub at her neck. Her aching neck. She froze when she felt it to be a little more than just an ache…

Her eyes bulged as she wobbled across her carpet to the wall mirror just to the left of her door. Alarmed eyes took in the sight of a swelling, blue and purple handprint across her throat. Thumb to finger spread, the bruise covered her neck from her right side to her left.

A shaking hand feathered the outline of each finger's imprint. A slow, throb responded to her touch. Even her head beat in pain from, to her discovery, a nicely sized goose egg on the back of her head.

Two revelations shot through her mind. First, she was in dire need of pain reliever and soon. In her experience, the headache she was embracing was as if she spent the whole night in a bar stool. Second, maybe that horrible dream wasn't just some creation from her sleeping consciousness.

Slowly, realization hit her like a bus. They were real. Each and every one of those mentally deficient freaks was real. Their crazy abilities and even their creative threats were real as well.

In her new awareness, Charlotte had awoken completely. Her heart was pounded distractingly in her chest and her hands started to collect sweat.

Slowly, she made her way down to the carpet on her hands and knees. From her position she peeked through the bottom of the door. She was hoping to find a clue of their existence, but alas, she found the crack to be blackened.

Not knowing what else to do, she stood and pressed her ear to her door. No movements. No sound besides those from the hasty honking of the impatient drivers on the streets below. Had she only gotten herself into a drunken fight then dream the whole disaster?

There was only one way to find out. Charlotte knew that. She knew she was acting a bit like a child hiding away in her room. So, after gathering her uniform from her closet and drawing a deep, deep breath, she grasped the door knob and yanked the door open.

So many. So many people in her apartment, she realized. She hardly had any room for them all. They were spread amongst her familiar and homey abode in an unamused manner. They were certainly unhappy, mostly sleepy. And every one of them stared at her as she finally revealed herself in the doorway of her bedroom.

How incredibly uncomfortable she felt standing there in her pajamas with so many strangers watching. Her breath still came shakily and her nerves were not helping any. Charlotte started to go to her bathroom but found the body of one of her visitors sleeping just in front of her bedroom entrance. With a giant step over the orange masked man's form, she quietly slipped into her bathroom.

Everyday habit seemed to fail Charlotte when she started the hot water. She almost forgot to remove her socks when entering the tub. Had she washed her hair twice absent-mindedly? Did she need to shave, or had she done that the day before? Did she usually brush her teeth after the shower, or was that a before thing?

She tried her hardest to make as little sound as possible. She knew the thin walls would allow her guest to hear everything from pushing the shower curtain back to capping her toothpaste lid.

Her hands fumbled to untangle her wavy mass of hair. Something that usually took so little a time seemed to be taking hours now. She didn't notice how much her hands were shacking until she went to apply eyeliner. They shook just as much as when she tried to speak with her old time crush, Blake, in middle school. Only things where different now. Instead of facing her bad boy crush, she was confronting a room full of thugs. Thugs with muscles and power to back them up.

Unwrapping the towel from under her armpits, she grabbed the heap of clothes on the toilet seat. Underwear, then pants, then shirt. Today she worked behind the counter at the gym. Check customers in. Set up new memberships. Clean the occasional basket of used, sweaty towels. It wasn't what she saw herself doing, but it was better than frying burgers at the local McDonald's. That is what Charlotte kept telling herself.

After pulling all her hair from the highlighter orange and white collared tee, immediately something was off. The bruise on her neck waved nastily at her from her mirror.

A moment passed. Charlotte pulled her bottom drawer open and grabbed her neglected straightener. About seven minutes went by as she waited for the red light to blink at her. But even after achingly getting her waves to settle down, it didn't cover hardly anything.

Charlotte leaned on her sink. What could she do? She could call off work. Claim she had a bad stomach ache. Loose stools. Throwing up. No. She didn't want to call off work for something such as a bruise. What had she done in high school trying to hide that hickey from her mother?

Ah. That's right. Turtle necks.

Tossing her dirty pajamas into her hamper, she braced herself at the door. How would she face them this time? Step out and stare for a few moments then continue on as she has before? Address them. Bid a good morning. Offer them coffee and doughnuts.

Charlotte decided it was best to just ignore for the time being.

So with that method in mind, she threw open the door and stepped out into the living room for lack of a better title. She strode directly to her room only a few feet away from her bathroom giving it her best to ignore the eyes that fixed themselves on her being. It used to be so simple to get ready for work in the morning. Now a few steps felt like walking out on stage in front of an audience.

Managing to avoid all eye contact with those in the room, Charlotte made it in front of her bedroom door. Her hand grasped the door knob-

"Hey, bitch!" A male voice called out causing her hand to freeze on the spot. "What food do you have in this hellhole?"

Charlotte didn't know what to do with herself. Spin around and confront whoever had the nerve to call her a bitch and snap. Enter her room without a word. Answer the question…

"You, with whore written all over," he spoke out again. "Are you deaf or have you been getting fucked in the brain lately?" His voice with the casual tone laced itself with impatience.

Slowly, Charlotte spun around to meet the one attacking her person with such foul language. Her eyes scanned over the intruders with a look she hoped resembled more of a grimace than a whence. There. Her eyes met with that silver-haired freak with the scythe from the night before. She noted his weapon leaned unceremoniously against the wall by her still knocked over lamp.

He frowned at her from where he rested on her sofa, laid back with his arms tucked behind his big head. His obviously displeased expression grew as he became more ticked at her silence.

"Where the hell is the food?" He blared again.

Charlotte involuntarily flinched at his sudden harsh tone. She lamely pointed toward the kitchen. "Cabinets." As if she couldn't be any more stupid. Answering the uncivilized man who constantly called her names and then she couldn't even reply in a full sentence.  
Internally she cursed herself for being such a pushover.

He made a grotesque sneer. "Nothing you have in your shitty cabinets is edible."

Now Charlotte knew she wasn't a freaking Rachael Ray, but she knew her food wasn't that bad. Unless these people were a bunch of rich bastards in disguise that had never set foot in Wal-Mart, they had to at least know Great Value was edible. So she sent an incredulous gaze his way. "Then I guess you'll be dying of starvation."

Tossing her hair over her shoulder in a loud huff, Charlotte went back into her room and shut the door behind her.

Striding to her closet, she shuffled through the back of the hangers. Somewhere, she believed, was a black turtle neck that could still match with her sporty work uniform. Soon, her fingers brushed against the smooth, elastic texture of the shirt and she yanked it off the hook.

Pulling of her shirt, she let her mind wonder off once more to the men and woman inside her apartment. That guy with the ringed eyes and pokey hair said they would be staying in her apartment. He stated something like '_This place is different than our own world_' before. Just how drunk did his mother get during pregnancy? From our world? Did he think he was Captain Kirk from Star Trek riding around in space with the Enterprise? Sorry buddy, you chose to take a piss stop at the wrong planet. Also in the wrong apartment…

Having so many people in her apartment would be a hassle. There was hardly any room to begin with. And there definitely wasn't enough food for that many men. Big men. Yet that red haired devil had said last night that they would be stay in her apartment until they were able to solve their predicament. But what was their exact predicament?

Straightening her uniform and checking herself over once more in her mirror, she decided the turtleneck served its purpose. The bruise was neatly hidden underneath the shirt. Charlotte only hoped her manager wouldn't mind too much.

She went to the door, only unlike the times before she didn't hesitate. She walked out of her room and shut the door behind her. On her way into the kitchen she side stepped the built, blue man by her table. Apparently he hadn't moved anywhere since the night before; he definitely did not move his legs to give her more room as she passed by. On his face he still seemed to hold that entertained grin of his behind the collar of his cloak. Disturbing.

Charlotte entered the kitchen and made her way to the top left cabinet. She pulled out her bagels. She split it in two and popped the halves into her toaster. As she waited she went to her fridge and pulled out the cream cheese. Strawberry flavored was her favorite. She grabbed a butter knife from a drawer and a plate from another cabinet. Then she went digging in her fridge again for the milk and poured herself a glass.

As Charlotte went about her business she was very well aware of the eyes boring into her back. Uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe how she felt at that moment. Exposed. Distressed. Irate. Unnerved. These words barely scratched the surface. She was on edge. Her back muscles were tight. Her toes were clenched. The atmosphere was so tense.

"Hey, cunt, while you're at it over there make us some food."

This was obviously spoken by the same obnoxious, foul mouthed male that had gotten her attention earlier. Charlotte glanced over her shoulder to see he had his head hanging over the edge of her couch. He stared at her with his daring eyes waiting for her response. "Yeah, make us food, bitch, since that's the only thing you're good for," he added with a cruel smirk.

Charlotte's eyes narrowed a bit. "Since you see yourself so high and mighty, surely you're strong enough to make your own food."

The toaster finished as the bagel halves bounced up to alert her. The scent of burnt crumbs filled the area since she had neglected to clean the contraption for a couple months. She really needed to add that to her "To Do" list. She began scooping the strawberry cream onto her knife.

"As if any of us could make ourselves food! None of your shit is recognizable!" The easily tempered man shouted making her pause in her smothering.

"Recognizable?" She repeated turning around to look at him waving her knife in the air sassily. "How is my food not recognizable? Are your tastes 'too good' for my food, or are you all brain damaged?"

"We checked your food supplies," said the man with the black hair. He seated himself in the chair beside her wall, closest to the blue man. "We didn't find any vegetables or rice."

"_Or meat_," added the plant-like man in his gruff voice. He had chosen his position in the far left corner of the room near the window.

Charlotte frowned at that response. "Well, I apologize for not being rich enough to afford meat and vegetables 24/7 and for never eating rice. Bread fills you quicker for less. And besides, just because I don't have those preferred items, doesn't mean everything else is inedible." She huffed finishing the cream on her bagel and putting the container back in the fridge.

With a bite of the bread and dairy, deliciousness flooded her taste buds and she chewed heartily, hopefully making everyone else jealous.

"There was also the question of whether or not the food was poisonous," chided the scarlet haired male sitting in the chair closest to her. "You have proven them not to be by eating this morning."

Charlotte swallowed her bite or bagel and stared at him. "Do you really think I would poison my food? When could I have possibly done that?" She yelled seriously irritated by their idiocy. They were in the kitchen all night. It's not as if she could have done it without them seeing.

"Before we came," he voiced calmly without any sort of emotion oozing out of his features. "There was no evidence to rule out the possibility this entire set up was all a trap."

Charlotte nodded sarcastically going back to eating her breakfast. "Yeah, because I am always set for a bunch of men to come in and raid my apartment. Poison the food in case they're hungry! Every sane person does that." She rolled her eyes to her light fixture. "I should be more worried that you guys poisoned my food. It's too late now though, I guess."

With a shrug of her shoulders she checked her watch to see she had about thirty-five minutes until she had to be at work. She quickly chugged down her milk and grabbed her plate and purse from the counter and headed towards the door. "I have to go to work. I will be getting off around four, but I guess I'll have to go by Target to get groceries since I don't have much food. I'll try to guess what you li-"

Before she could even reach for the handle, the masked man, who Charlotte had just seen sitting in the last of her kitchen chairs, was now standing directly in front of her door. She peered up at him to find that his eyes were very abnormal. The sclera which were usually white, were instead a murky ruby color while his irises were olive with the absence of pupils. They glared down at her mercilessly. His form towered over hers menacingly.

An audible gasp escaped Charlotte's as she jumped back in fright. How had he managed to get to her door so quickly?

"I thought I made it clear." The pierced man had also appeared behind her. She stepped to the side to create space between them. "You are not to leave."

Her eyebrows sunk low. "Not leave? How am I not allowed to leave? I have a job! I have to work so I can make money! Do you understand what I'm saying? Money! Something I have to have so I can survive! And how else am I supposed to get you people food? Would you prefer eating the furniture once we run out of food? Or perhaps the rats out in the hallway are more to your liking." Charlotte faced the leader with her hard eyes as he stared with the same expression. He didn't speak. He watched her. His ringed eyes observed her, taking her in, voice and all.

"We would not mind the rats," the plant man said gleefully as he was still standing by the window. It appeared he was taking an interest to all of the people walking the streets bellow.

"Speak for yourself, un," the blond retorted with a grimace. It seemed rat was not on his menu for supper.

"Where do you work?" The pierced man asked peering down at her.

"Today I am working at the gym, Sport Fitness." Charlotte crossed her arms trying her best to keep her eyes locked on his. It really shouldn't be that hard since his eyes were so fascinating. In a creepy, 'I can kill you without trying' way.

"What are your duties at this 'gym'?" He asked.

"Mainly I'm just the person sitting behind the desk," she answered.

"A secretary?"

"Of sorts."

His eyes closed temporarily as he thought to himself. Charlotte had the idea that she had won. Obviously there was nothing dangerous about a secretary. She had to go to work; it's not as if he could just keep her home. He had no other choice.

"You may leave," he stated evenly. Charlotte smirked crossing her arms victoriously. He opened his eyes to stare at her. "You may leave with one of us to ensure that you abide by my rules."

Charlottes smile dropped along with her stomach. "With one of you?" She yelled, her eyes popping. "There's no way I'd leave with one of you! Are you crazy?"

He gave her a harsh look to silence her. "You may leave with one of us or you will not leave at all. That is my offer."

"It's not a very good one," she muttered begrudgingly. "But only if it's someone who doesn't stick out. I can't have someone like that plant guy or someone with as bad of language as that guy," She pointed at the white haired man as he gave her a questioning look.

"What, you don't like my language, bitch?" He said with anger on his tongue.

Charlotte gave the pierced man a knowing look. "Especially not him. I'd be fired for sure."

He gave thoughtful glance before turning to look at the black haired man. "Itachi, I leave her to you then. If she causes you suspicion, you know what to do." With his last words, he looked at Charlotte as a forewarning and she knew it. If she did anything suspicious, she would be taken care of for good. Just the way she liked to spend her Sunday mornings. By having people threaten her life.

Charlotte took a peek at Itachi. He seemed to have average looks compared to many of the other guests she had. Black hair that wasn't too long, no abnormal blue skin, no plant-like markings. He looked good. Except for maybe one thing.

"He has to change," Charlotte commented bluntly. "I'm not going anywhere if he walks out wearing that." She motioned over to Itachi, "Stand up and remove the cloak. I want to see what's underneath."

She heard someone snicker and make the suggestive remark, "Yeah, she wants to see what is _underneath_." Oh, yes. She was in a room full of men. She would have to watch how she worded herself from then on.

Itachi complied with her request as he folded his cloak and placed in on the back of his chair. Underneath he revealed simple clothing with some faded navy color. A patch of netting could be seen from the top of neckline of his shirt. His pants were the same color as his shirt. His clothing wasn't impractical, but it was tacky to say the least.

She took in his appearance with a hand on her chin. "It's not as obnoxious as the cloak, but it's still not… normal. I obviously wouldn't have any pants to fit you, or shoes.

However, I do have an oversized sweatshirt hidden in the back of my closet somewhere. Maybe that could help to make you look less… like that." She shrugged and strolled past the pierced man and to her room.

Itachi didn't seem affected by her mild insult as he followed her into her room. She opened her closet door and fumbled around with the hangers for a bit, cursing at her memory before coming out with a black hoodie. It was obviously too big for her; it was meant for Friday night comfort, not sociable outings. She removed the hanger and lifted the hoodie up so she could compare it to his size.

"Oh yeah, this should be able to fit you without any problems," Charlotte assured. The hoodie had almost no markings except for the brand name on the left side. He shouldn't complain, not that she thought he would.

She left her bedroom so he could change as she made her way back to the kitchen where the pierced man hadn't moved. She nodded her head at him. "It should work. But that doesn't mean I'm any happier about this," she added to inform him of her grief.

"I didn't make the decision to make you feel any more comfortable," he told her without missing a beat.

"Of course," she sneered. "I mean, why make anything easy on the girl being forced to care for you all."

Their piercing glares were broken when Itachi reentered the room wearing the black hoodie. It seemed the clothing was too big even for him, but he didn't seem to mind. All that much.

With that, Charlotte grabbed her purse and her breakfast again. She also yanked her jacket off the chair after a second thought. It might decide to rain again. She glance over at the pierced man again, "I guess then I'm set for work. I've got my things and a new best friend, and oh-!"

Charlotte then remembered she didn't have her phone. But then…

She walked over to her wall. There was the crack her head left. Looking down at the floor beneath it, she found the knife she had dropped and the bits of her cell phone. With a strained sigh she squatted next to the mess. She searched through the wreckage and found a section of the back partially in tact. She flipped it around and found the SIM card still in good condition. She slipped the card out and stood back up to face the pierced man.

"Thanks to you, I have to buy a new phone. Luckily, my SIM card seemed to have made it through your beating so I should still have most of my contacts." She brushed past him once more and went to the door signaling to the tall man with the mask to step aside. He did with a grunt of displeasure.

When Charlotte grabbed the door knob she looked over her shoulder at the man who had caused her so much strife in only a few hours. "By the way," she said with curiosity lacing her speech. "What is your name so I know what to write on the curse doll I'm buying later?"

His expression didn't change with her humor. "You may refer to me as Pein."

She rolled her eyes at that, "Whatever." She waved her hand to Itachi to motion him to follow. "Come on, I don't have all day. And don't trash my place while I'm out!" She shouted the last part to everyone else as she shut her door and locked it.

/ / /

Charlotte thought it was bad to stand in front of a whole room of strangers this morning in only her pajamas. Well, she forgot about just how awkward car rides were when the person whose shoulder was only a few inches from her own was there not for conversation and giggles but for threats and supervision.

Once they made it outside, Charlotte had a hard time getting the guy inside her car. He didn't seem to trust it and she had to reassure him that she wasn't a suicide driver waiting to take them both over a cliff. Her words did nothing but make him more annoyed as his eyes narrowed at her humor. Apparently none of them liked her jokes. Eventually after getting in herself and telling him that she would drive off without him, he opened the side door and stepped inside.

This didn't make him any less tense.

And his uneasiness was not helping her nerves any. Even music didn't save her situation. Charlotte had cranked the radio when she found he didn't have anything to say. But even then he didn't do or say anything. The only action he took upon was taking in the world around them as they drove by. He looked at people, the buildings, the other vehicles, everything.

Needless he was none too happy when they were stopped at a stoplight and people in ragged clothing came up to the windows.

"Ignore them," She told him. "This happens all the time. You don't need to get your panties in a wad."

"This happens often?" He turned to look at her and she returned his gaze. For the first time she was able to be close enough to get a close up at his face. His eyes, which she had thought to be bloodshot, last night, actually had red irises. Not only where they red, but a black pattern swirled in their depths in a hypnotizing manner.

Cars behind her honked spitefully as she failed to move when the light turned green. She forced her eyes forward and pressed on the gas with a confused expression.

"Those are, um," she cleared her throat nervously, "strange eyes you have there."

"It's a bloodline limit," he clarified as he continued to absorb the new scenes.

"Bloodline limit," She repeated shaking her head. "What's that supposed to be?" Honestly, here she thought she had been giving to most normal out of the pack. If she had known about those eyes of his, she wouldn't have allowed it. How do you explain those to someone?

There was a pause and Charlotte wasn't sure he was going to answer her. "A bloodline limit is a rare form of jutsu that can only be acquired through genetics. It grants an extraordinary skill to the user."

Charlotte glanced at him through the corner of her eye. "And what does yours do?" With that questioned he bent his head enough so he could catch her gaze.

"Something you do not wish to experience."

She blinked and focused once again on the road ahead of her. Traffic didn't seem too bad this morning. It would still take her about twenty minutes total to get to work though. Twenty minutes with a man clearly pointing out that he had some sort of power to cause her immense amount of pain and suffering. Wonderful.

"Well," she grimaced a bit. "Is there any way that you could hide that bloodline limit of yours? Otherwise, you won't be able to look anyone in the eye. Those are too freaky to be normal."

Another pause as she hoped he wasn't pissed.

"I can hide them." She nodded feeling a bit relieved. "But if you create any sort of suspicion, they will be forced to resurface."

"Yeah, yeah," she said making it clear in her voice she was getting annoyed with the warnings. "Don't tell anyone about the illegals hiding out in my apartment or I'll be killed. Got it. I don't think it was hard to understand the first time."

"You didn't seem to comprehend the rule about leaving your residence."

Shocked, she twisted her head around to glare at him. "That was because I didn't actually think he was serious! After that rude awakening I'm sure I won't misunderstand anymore. That 'Pain' guy doesn't joke around. And what's with the name 'Pain' anyway? Is that supposed to be something to scare people off? It sounds like some lame bad guy off of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

He graced her with a befuddled expression. She noticed that his eyes were as black as coal now instead of spinning, red irises. "Mutant Ninja Turtles?" He asked obviously confused with the phrase.

Right. They were all oblivious to anything ordinary. "It's a cartoon," she explained. "It's not real."

He didn't seem to dwell as he nodded and accepted her answer. Charlotte noticed that he seemed to be getting more relaxed as he allowed himself to slouch a bit in the cushions.

She took his calmer state to inform him about her work. "So when we get to the gym, just follow me. My coworkers might be curious about you. Even if you don't talk much, they may still try to talk to you. Try to be nice, I don't want them to get upset that I've brought an unfriendly, psychotic individual behind the desk. Which, really, I will be. But don't let them know. Don't cause me any trouble. Don't disappear. Be polite. Act at least neutral towards me and not hostile. You're going to have to make it look like you're my friend or something. And how do you pronounce your name? Ee-Tashy?"

"Itachi," he pronounced in slight annoyance.

"Ee-Tachi. That's a weird name," she scrunched her nose as she repeated his name to make it sound familiar to her lips. "Are all of your guys' names weird? I mean 'Pain' is kind of normal. Ee-Tachi isn't. And I don't know anyone else's."

"Your name was not familiar to us either Miss Chapman," he stated in a bored tone. However, she was sure he was trying to inform her that she also had a weird name. In a more subtle way than she had stated it anyway.

"You're going to have to call me Charlotte or Charlie when we're at the gym. No one calls me 'Miss Chapman'. Not even my doctor." She smirked. "The story will be that you're a close family friend's son. You've known me since we were kids but it's been several years since we've seen each other."

There was again, no response, but Charlotte supposed he got the message.

Within the next ten minutes, Charlotte pulled into a parking spot and took her key out of the ignition. Her key chains jingled as she shoved them into her purse and opened her door. She heard Itachi open and shut his door as well.

Sports Fitness established itself just in the outskirts of the center of the city. There weren't any tall buildings blocking out the sun and the part Charlotte loved most, a Target was just down the street so she could finish her errands after work.

The entire front of the gym consisted of floor to ceiling windows, through which, a few members could be spotted on the treadmills. There wouldn't be many members. Charlotte knew from past experiences, Sunday mornings and early afternoons, not many came to exercise. She expected it to be an easy day that would flow by smoothly even if she did have Mr. Red Eyes by her side. She gave him a quick glance and found she missed something.

She reached over to his head. Itachi's hand, which she hadn't seen move, grasped her wrist firmly. He looked at her with his red eyes and black commas spinning wildly at her. "What are you doing?"

"The thingy on your head," Charlotte frowned feeling a bit uncomfortable as he observed her face for motive. "It needs to go."

Her hand was release like he had never grabbed it to begin with. His fingers loosened the knot hidden somewhere in his dark hair. The metal symbol slipped off of his head and he handed it to Charlotte. She stuffed it in her purse somewhere under her wallet.

Hurrying herself across the parking lot, Charlotte checked her watch. She only had a couple minutes to spare. She was usually ten minutes early to be sure she was on time. Cutting it this close made her stomach hurt. It was all that Pein's fault.

She yanked open the door as the air swished her straightened hair this way and that. Striding over to the door on the right marked 'Employees Only', a girl with bright blond hair poked her head out from inside the office door.

"Charlie? Wow! You're here late. What took you?" The girls indigo eyes landed on the guest as the two made their way through the door and Charlotte closed it behind her. Charlotte threw her purse beside the desk that was strewn with paper work. Itachi hovered by the entrance as he observed Charlotte running a hand through her locks.

"Sorry, Sophie," she apologized trying to fix the hairstyle the wind had ruined. "I was running a little behind this morning."

Sophie's lip-glossed mouth formed a smile showing lots of teeth. "Does it have anything to do with your straight hair?" Her eyes shifted over to Itachi suspiciously. "Or maybe it's because of the guy by the door you have neglected to introduce."

Charlotte lifted an eyebrow. She had almost forgotten, amazingly, that _she_ would have to be the one to introduce them. Pointing a thumb at the tense fellow, she said, "Oh, this is Itachi. He's the son of a family friend from the town that I used to live in. He's always wanted to come to the big city, so I agreed to let him stay with me for a little while." She paused to look at her 'family friend'. "Itachi, this is Sophie."

"Nice to meet you," Sophie grinned batting her thick eyelashes. Itachi simply graced her with a nod.

Attempting not to look apprehensive, Charlotte went to the wall where she punched her time card. Then she went to the desk and opened a drawer and pulled out a file with copies of charts inside. The charts were for the members to sign in.

"Hey, Sophie," Charlotte looked at the blond. "Have there been many today?"

"Nah," Sophie sighed. "It's a Sunday. Everyone's at home." She strolled through a second door of the glass office to step behind the mahogany counter where the guests signed in. "I've only had to sign in two since waiting for you."

"That's good. Sorry to have troubled you." Charlotte slipped through the same door taking a seat in the black swivel chair. "What are you doing today?"

"I'm working in the day care," she sighed. "Should be fun without anyone there." Her body slumped over the counter as she set her chin in her palms. Somehow she still managed to keep complete beauty even in her incorrect posture.

Sophie was the type that worried about her looks. The complete opposite from Charlotte. It's not that Charlotte didn't care about her appearance at all, but compared to Sophie's obsession, it was nothing. While Charlotte preferred eyeliner and mascara and a dab of powder, Sophie went all out.

Today her eyes had bright pink eye shadow on that flashed everyone around when she blinked. Her fake eyelashes had globs of mascara making them even more pronounced. She had dark skin from tanning at the salon twice a week. Her nails were always painted to perfection which always made Charlotte conscious of her own torn nails. She always picked at them especially when she saw her manicured ones.

Charlotte believed Sophie to be a natural brunet, but with the constant color changes, she couldn't tell anymore. Hell! Last week the girl had Brown hair with blue streaks, now it was bleached with a cherry strip framing the right side of her face. Sophie always changed her looks. It was becoming natural for Charlotte.

Despite all the superficial material and no matter how much Charlotte resented it, Sophie was still attractive. When guys came to the desk, it was always Sophie they spoke to. Charlotte never thought of herself as unsightly, but she definitely didn't have an exterior as impressive as Sophie's.

"It's fine though," Sophie smirked snapping Charlotte back into reality. "I don't like kids anyway. If there aren't any there, it just makes my day easier." And her lazy attitude revealed itself. Sophie really wasn't a hard worker at heart. In fact, she always took the easy way out of all of her chores. Even in school it seemed. Sophie would sometimes come to work with piles of books from her college courses and whined about being behind on lessons. She always asked Charlotte for help. Charlotte always complied after an hour of bickering.

Since Charlotte knew Sophie wouldn't have anything to do for some time, she was going to ask if she could put the towels in the washer later in her shift. However, she knew from experience that wouldn't work. Sophie griped and groaned about the smell. And then if she did put them in the washer, she would forget leaving the next morning shift to find them and by then, they had to be rewashed from the stench of stale soap and water.

Instead Charlotte gave the girl a light smile. "Then I guess you should get moving. You don't want the manager to come by and see the day care without a chaperone. She'll flip whether there are kids or not."

"Right, right," Sophie waved away the remark as if the manager could do her no harm. "I'll get going." She strolled back to the door Itachi positioned himself near. With another beam from her shinny lip she grabbed the door knob. "It was nice meeting you… Ee…. Tachy was it?" Her long 'e' sounds came out nasally causing Itachi's eyebrows to drop unnoticed by her. "Well, anyway, I hope you like the city." She went through the door her hips swinging along with her.

"That was your coworker?" Itachi questioned walking over to the counter beside Charlotte. He stood over her glancing at the paper she place in the clipboard. She place it down pointed away from her and took a pen from a nearby mug and set it on top.

"Yeah," she gave a stressed sigh picking at her nails a bit. "What about her?"

He blinked as she stared up at him. "She wears a lot of makeup."

Charlotte forgot about how nervous she should be with a dangerous sociopath standing directly behind her with an obvious opening to strike her down. His blunt statement made her snort as she covered her mouth with one of her hands. He immediately went defensive thinking she was laughing at him.

"What?"

She snickered again. "Oh, don't sound so cynical. It was just funny the way you said it. You're so straight forward." She glanced up at him again to see his feathers had smoothed over. She pointed in through the door to the office. "There's another chair in there behind the desk. If you'd like, you can use it."

He turned around stepping into the office again and grabbing the plastic chair. He placed it just in front of the doorway behind Charlotte so he could keep watch. He watched as she picked at the nail on her left pointer finger. It must have been a nervous habit of hers.

/ / /

"Hey Itachi, what do you think about hamburgers?"

At the current time, Charlotte and Itachi were stepping through the electric doors of Target. Once again, he seemed hesitant towards the technology, but after she strolled on through without a worry in the world, he walked in after her. He curiously watched the busy civilians swarming all around him as he registered Charlotte's question.

Work had been a breeze just as Charlotte had thought. Only about thirty came in and never at once. Itachi cautiously watched the members come up the counter as Charlotte made small talk about the weather and their wellbeing as they wrote on the clipboard.

When lunch came around, she took Itachi to the break room down the hall. There, she dug around in the tiny refrigerator until she pulled out grape jelly and two bottles of water. Then she went to one of the cupboards and pulled out a loaf of bread and peanut butter. She apologized for the childish food and claimed peanut butter and jelly had always been one of her favorite lunches, which was the reason for stocking the place with her own ingredients. She then commenced in making them both sandwiches. He watched her hands work smoothly as she spread the different substances. Of course, he was cautious when he went to take a bite. He didn't seem familiar with the food. But after the first nibble, he seemed to deem the meal worthy.

After lunch, it was back to desk duty. It wasn't until a couple hours later that she had to go around the different work out rooms to grab the baskets of used sweat towels. Itachi followed behind her from room to room silently. Then she took them to another 'Employees Only' room where Charlotte dumped the rags into a washer. She poured in the soap and the machine started with furious shaking.

Another forty minutes and she went back to toss the wet towels into the dryer. When it was done, she returned to fold. While, she did this, Charlotte had Sophie watch over the desk and members. Once Charlotte finished restocking the towels in each room, she claimed it was time for her shift to end. Sophie said she could watch the desk until Mac came in to take over. So charlotte punched her time in, grabbed her pay check off the desk, and left with Itachi to get groceries.

"What are 'hamburgers'?" Itachi responded to her question with a straight expression.

She returned his look with a raised eyebrow. "You don't know what hamburgers are," she said dubiously. When all she received was another look, her eyes went wide. "You guys really are nutcases. A hamburger is what this entire country is based off of. It's a beef patty with pickles, tomatoes, onions, and lettuce pressed between two buns." She proceeded to pull out a cart and set her purse inside the baby seat.

His eyebrows knitted together confused. "Your country is based off of food?"

"Well," she rolled her eyes without offensiveness. "Obviously not. I was exaggerating. What I mean is hamburgers here are _very_ well known. Most every restaurant has it on their menu."

He didn't make any comment to her explanation as she made her way to the food section of Target. There weren't many people around, mostly old folk who were getting out and about on a Sunday afternoon. However, the constant stream of people seemed to calm her nerves. All morning and most of the afternoon she had to sit nervously in her chair while she felt the sharp eyes of the man next to her stab into every movement she made. Of course, she felt a tad tense.

With the amount of bodies swarming around them and the new atmosphere, Itachi was distracted. He wasn't constantly crushing her with his intense stares. In fact, it passed through her mind that she could try to run. She was in public. He wouldn't want to cause a scene. She could run and attempt to escape his grasp. Then came the question as to whether or not she would succeed. He would, no doubt, give a chase. If was as fast as Pein when he came at her last night or the masked man to appeared in front of her door, it was a no brainer. He would win. She would be punished.

But what if he wasn't, she wondered as she scanned the isles for the products she wanted. What if he wasn't as fast as the others? Could she attempt a diversion and then make a run for it? Get someone else involved? Yell for help? Cause a scene? So many options…

But once again her thoughts were thwarted when Itachi's cold voice declared, "Just because we are in a public setting, do not suppose it will refrain me from completing my task."

Her eyes widened as she turned to glare at him. He wasn't even looking, that bastard! He was acting all cool because he could freak her out without looking. Egotistical criminal!

"What, can you guys read minds or something?" She practically yelled at him. First Pein when she questioned running out the door, and now with this guy!

Itachi rotated his head to meet her glower. Charlotte noticed his eyes had returned to the red irises she had seen in the car that morning. He meant business.

"No, we cannot read minds." He remarked before adding a second later, "You're just easy to read."

Charlotte gapped insulted in his words. She scowled crossly, "I am _not_ easy to read!"

He kept his eyes on her for another moment before tearing apart to look forward. "You stopped moving."

She had stopped. In the middle of the walkway too. Grumbling something to herself she pulled up along the side where the meat was sorted on the shelves. "You have some nerve," she began glancing over all of the prices of the ground beef. "You insult me even though I'm the one who has to house you all in my apartment _and_ feed you. Do you understand how hard that is going to be? I don't even have enough room for you all if you haven't noticed. And then your boss beats me up in my own living room for God's sake! You know how badly my neck is bruised from him strangling me last night? And how am I going to tell the landlord about the wall he cracked? I'm going to have to get that fixed too. And if that isn't enough abuse, you suddenly think it is okay to say anything you like to me? I'm going to be cooking for you, man! I deserve a little respect!"

By the time she finished she was out of breath and glaring at him furiously while he seemed as calm as could be.

"My statement wasn't out of disrespect. I meant it only as a simple explanation." His expression never changed. He didn't apologize, but Charlotte knew that was the closest she was going to get to one.

Besides, she knew she had overreacted to his reason. Obviously. As if there were ever such a way to overreact to ten people hiding out in her apartment and then trying to act normal the next morning. She had to blow sometime. Although, she already had to release steam after a day. And she wasn't even around them all, only one! What would she do after spending an entire week with all of them? What if it took longer than that?

She closed her eyes massaging the bridge of her nose. "Explanation or not, keep it to yourself next time. You could have just told me you _could_ read minds. It would freak me out more anyway. Then you could just use it to your advantage." She picked out the meat she thought was best and grabbed five packages and set them in the cart. Then with a second thought, she grabbed a few more. There were some big men in their wacky group.

By the end of their journey through Target's food supply, Charlotte's cart was nearly full. She had no idea what they liked and Itachi was of no help since he didn't know what anything was. In the end, she was just grabbing things marked 'Great Value' and dumped them in. She'd figure out what to do later.

Then she had to go by the Electronics so she could by another inexpensive phone to replace her old, mutilated one. This only reminded her that she would have to clean up that mess when she returned to her apartment. How tiring. She felt like just going home, taking a shower, and curling up on the couch in her oversized sweatshirt… That Itachi was wearing… Oh never mind. She could still take a shower.

"How long do you guys plan on staying exactly," Charlotte asked suddenly thinking of something very important.

Itachi was gazing of into the distance. He seemed to have gotten very bored within the past hour of shopping. "None of us are sure. It could be from days to weeks."

She scowled. "So you're not seeing any signs of a quick return to where ever you people come from."

He shook his head, "No."

Slouching on her cart for support, she groaned. She then proceeded to drag her feet forward sluggishly moving the cart with her. Itachi watched her curiously. Wasn't the shopping supposed to be over with? Why was she moving further away from the front of the building?

"Come on," she moaned clearly distressed. "We need to go to the Health and Beauty department."

He followed after her as she slunk onward. "Why?"

"You guys are going to need shampoo and other necessary products. I'm not letting a bunch of hairy and smelly men stay in my apartment. Personal hygiene is not an option for me, it is a law."

Soon Charlotte was placing the manliest smelling bars of soap in her cart along with cheap shampoos, deodorant, razors, and shaving cream, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and combs. Whatever she found with the smallest price, she bought it. She was _not _going to spend a fortune on these criminals.

However, when Charlotte checked out, she felt a like a canon had shot through her. Her entire pay check would be gone as soon as she put it in the bank… She was the queen at saving her money! Now her reputation was going down the drain along with a portion of her being.

The groceries filled the trunk of her car and flooded into her back seat. She could already feel the burning sensation in her calves awaiting her from the amount of trips it would take her up those stairs. Stupid landlord for never fixing that crappy elevator.

The ride home was eventless as Charlotte was too deflated to speak. No words were spoken and the radio was only a quiet hum in the background. A twenty minute drive later, she parallel parked next to her apartment building and turned off the car.

She and Itachi adorned their entire forearms and shoulders with white and red plastic bags and they headed inside and up the narrow and squeaky stairs. They had a problem on the second flight of stairs when they had to make way for a middle-aged man heading downstairs. Then Charlotte had to take a break on the top landing of her floor from the weight on her arms and the painful way the straps dug into her skin. She had to stop again in front of her door to fish out her keys from her purse.

When she finally unlocked the door, she picked up her bags once more and opened the door.

When she stepped in, Charlotte looked up from the tile of her kitchen flooring expecting to see the same bored room full of people she loathed for creating such a hole in her wallet. Instead, what she saw was everyone up and standing. Her eyes focused on the center of attention: the masked man who had blocked the door this morning appearing to be livid and the silver-haired bastard who kept calling her names. They stood in the middle of her living room. The silver-haired punk had his weapon up and he was breathing heavily, but his grin was large. He was bleeding. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth.

He licked the blood off his lip. "Lucky shot, fucker. I want to fucking see you try it again."

The masked man raised his arm up with his hand outstretched towards the silver-haired fellow. "You asked for it," he declared with his deep voice.

But as Charlotte stood there watching this duel take place, only one thing passed through her mind.

After such a long day, she could care less if the two killed each other, but she didn't want to have to clean blood from the carpet.

/ / /

Part of this chapter didn't turn out the way I wanted it… But I think it's still good. Maybe not my best, but pretty good. Towards the end I started to get writer's block. And needless to say, I am having a heavy wave of writer's block on chapter four. Usually I am a chapter ahead… Nope. Not this time. In fact, I wasn't planning on updating until a week or so to give myself more time for chapter four. But I didn't. It's Valentine's week. I decided that since there was a holiday, I would be nice and post it despite the fact that I'm behind. Getting scheduled for work every freaking day this weekend is not going to help either. But I need the money. And if my mother catches me complaining she'll nag me again.

**Question: What are some things you'd like to see in the future chapters? **

**Responses to Reviews:**

**Lady Arachne: **First off, I mention that I am responding back to both of your beautiful and cheery reviews. You make me so happy and I thank you so much for your compliments! And as for whether she knows who or what the Akatsuki are, nope. She has no clue. The only thing she is aware of is how many people who have "broken" into her apartment. And let me tell you XD I laughed so hard… "Shake it like yo momma does on friday nights." That is definitely the BEST answer I have gotten for that question! As for your other answer, "Who are you?", that is correct. It was just… in a different language c: Lastly, I'm glad you think the characters are in character! You have no idea how much I fret over whether or not the Akatsuki are acting like they would in real life… It's good to know that at least I'm describing their characters correctly.

**Angelbloodlover: **I'm happy to hear that you're enjoying my story so far! And to hear that you were sucked in as if you were Charlotte… This makes me very glad to hear. As for the wishes and luck, I will need them in the near future with my writer's block. Hopefully your hopes will not be wasted on me D:

**blackcatgirl: **Thank you very much for the advice about the recap from the last chapter. Just before updating, I was wondering whether or not to include one. But, thanks to you, I now know that I should c: I have to admit, I love the fact that Charlotte does not have any fangirl prejudices. It makes the story more… Serious(?) in a way. By having Charlotte in the dark, she is able to take the situation as it should be seen—which is a bunch of strangers barging into her home and making her accommodate to their rules. Obviously, this sounds more dangerous than someone's favorite characters coming to live with them. It is this fact that bothers me when fanfics have scatterbrained girls who frolic around in happy fields of tulips discovering the Akatsuki in their conveniently-parentless-homes. Unoriginal. And sometimes, boring. I know that at the moment Miscalculations seems to be a little unoriginal itself, but in the near future, it won't be. There's a reason for most everything I do.

**akira-chan101:** Thank you so much for the compliment! It's always awesome to have encouragement from you readers. Honestly, one of my most favorite things in this world is getting reviews from my beautiful readers. Besides Thin Mints. Thin Mints probably top anything. Even my future first born.

**Path:** Seriously… You are officially one of my top favorite reviewers! You flatter me so! I am so glad you are happy with the story thus far! And that you will be sticking with me until the end will be an amazing adventure. Especially since you have been here since the beginning. And then regarding to your romantic advice… I completely agree. I hate fanfics when they rush into sudden relationship with random characters. So ridiculously shameful! No! It doesn't happen like that! It doesn't even happen like that in real life! And if it does—unhealthy. Not good. So yeah, I don't plan on any immediate romances… In fact, I'm not even sure how to fit one in thus far. Though I'm trying. I want a little fluff. It'd be fun c:  
So how does the Akatsuki speak English? That, my dear reader, is something that will be answered in the future. It's a secret at the moment as to how they know. It's all part of the plan. This story takes place… either just before Shippuden or at the very beginning. Sasori is still living and Tobi isn't part of the Akatsuki just yet (he's not wearing the cloak). And does anyone else in Charlotte's world know about Naruto. Yes. I suppose I haven't, or rather can't, explained that yet. More of less, Charlotte just hasn't ever seen or heard of Naruto. And she won't discover it until a later chapter. Probably the same chapter the English is explained.

You had a very good answer! Unfortunately, nothing was discrete and no one had to follow her around. But I think everything still fit. Congratulations on guessing Itachi! I'm so proud you were able to guess who it was c:

Sleeping arrangements… Heh heh… Actually, they don't have any. As you said, they are ninja and they do go without sleep. So, it is assumed that this is the hand they are dealt with Charlotte's small apartment. But this doesn't mean they cannot dose off in a chair or on the couch! They find some way to adjust. Thus is the way of the ninja.

**RandomCitizen: **It is truly depressing about her cell… and no. She didn't have a spare… But thankfully in this chapter, she bought a new one! :D Not all is lost. And you're right. They were not too happy about her leaving to say the least. But she still managed to get out of the apartment for a little fresh air. And also, getting money for the ragtag ninja hoodlums XD Greatest term ever! Thanks so much for reviewing!

So, without further ado, I believe the time is almost upon me to update! However I will say this much about the release of this chapter being sooner than convenience. The next chapter may be late. I will try my hardest to kick my butt into gear and get it typed, but with my weekends stolen by work… It may be less of a possibility. And also…

I've gone on a Bane binge.

I cannot stop reading Dark Knight Rises fanfics. And now I am distracted from this story. This is the truth I have been hiding. But I just can't help myself! Bane is too amazing not to read about! It's so pathetic of me!

But now I will post this chapter. And then I will await the arrival of reviews from all of you wonderful readers that I adore. I love you all! Have a wonderful Valentine's Day!


	4. Chapter 4

So who wants to slaughter me first? Ha ha… I am so late and I can offer nothing but excuses! I am so sorry! I had been so busy with school and graduating from that forsaken high school. Then I got to summer, but my boss has been scheduling me pretty much everyday. And then there is college preparation. And then family… I just gave up after a while. Not to mention it was very difficult to write this chapter. I wasn't very motivated :/ And with that I can say I didn't particularly love this chapter. There are a few parts that I like, but I'm not a huge fan of the chapter as a whole. Maybe you'll think differently?

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

**RECAP:**

_When she stepped in, Charlotte looked up from the tile of her kitchen flooring expecting to see the same bored room full of people she loathed for creating such a hole in her wallet. Instead, what she saw was everyone up and standing. Her eyes focused on the center of attention: the masked man who had blocked the door this morning appearing to be livid and the silver-haired bastard who kept calling her names. They stood in the middle of her living room. The silver-haired punk had his weapon up and he was breathing heavily, but his grin was large. He was bleeding. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. _

_He licked the blood off his lip. "Lucky shot, fucker. I want to fucking see you try it again."_

_The masked man raised his arm up with his hand outstretched towards the silver-haired fellow. "You asked for it," he declared with his deep voice. _

_But as Charlotte stood there watching this duel take place, only one thing passed through her mind._

_After such a long day, she could care less if the two killed each other, but she didn't want to have to clean blood from the carpet. _

/ / /

Charlotte threw her keys on the kitchen counter and set the groceries on the floor. Standing straight and tall she marched herself to the center of the living room where the two opposing men stood. She had her hands fisted to her sides out of anger and even out of fear. She tried to keep from shaking.

"You two," she pointed at them with both hands, "No fighting. And you," she looked at the white haired fellow with the cut and now swelling lip. "Put down the weapon."

He scoffed loudly at her, "Yeah right, bitch." He wiped his arm across his mouth and smeared most of the blood off. "As if I would listen to a little cunt like you." His eyes redirected towards his opponent as he lifted his scythe.

Her eyes narrowed at his profanity. She was about to yell something else at him but before she could blink he had already advanced on the masked man.

The red blades swung above his head as a struck out against the dark man. His attack was stopped. The masked man brought his fist out and struck the scythe's handle just below the blade's edge with a loud '_clang_'. The pointed ends of the weapon hung dangerously close to his face; however, he didn't seem phased by the potential threat. The space between his eyebrows crinkled with malicious intent.

Charlotte who had jumped when she heard his fist connect in response to the attack, stared at the situation growing in her living room. She watched as the white haired man's arms shook as he tried to force his weapon closer to his enemy's head. A sadistic smirk was clearly making its way onto his face.

With furrowed eyebrows, she stomped her way closer to the couple as she heard someone chuckle a warning, "I wouldn't if I were you." Looking back she realized it was the strangely colored blue man who was talking to her. She noticed how he sat back in the cushions of her couch clearly amused by what was going on. He acted like someone watching sitcom rather than a death match in the middle of her apartment.

"Well it doesn't look like anyone else is doing anything," she huffed spinning back around with a deep breath. She closed the space between her and the fighting criminals and she stared straight into the face of the white haired man. His nose was still bleeding profusely as was his lip. He looked away from his target to give her an annoyed look as he licked away some of the blood.

"What do you want, bitch?" he sneered down at her impatiently. "Can't you see I'm in the fucking middle of something?"

She glared back. "It looks like you're about to have a blood bath in the middle of my apartment witch I _cannot_ permit."

In the midst of the distraction Charlotte provided him, he masked man managed to toss the bleeding man back a couple feet. This caused the white haired man to seethe in resentment while Charlotte attempted to yell at them to stop again.

"Shut it, bitch!" He bellowed trudging his way across the floor over to her instead of his opponent. "You're getting in the fucking way!"

As if to prove his point, she stood directly in his way to the masked man behind her. She tried to give him a level glower but fear was slipping into her veins as he towered over her. "You are stopping this fight now." She resented the way her voice trembled.

"Think again," he smiled putting his hand on her arm. He gripped it tightly and flung her to his left. With his path cleared, he charged at the masked man again.

Charlotte had felt her head collide with something on her way down to her carpet. As she lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling fan she realize it had been the wooden coffee table. She gripped her head where she experienced a numb throbbing above her right eye. Surely that would leave a mark…

She sat up with a foggy expression and dizziness playing with her sense of balance, trying to ignore the vicious laugh the man spit from his bleeding lip. Retracting her fingers from her forehead, she rubbed the red, sticky solution through her fingers.

Oh.

Again, her eyebrows drifted lower as she looked around the room to find that spiky ginger. Through the pairs of eyes that gazed at her, she discovered ringed irises belonging to someone standing behind the couch. He only continued to look down at her.

She frowned more. "Aren't you going to do something?" She finally bellowed. "These idiots are under your command! Don't you think you should stop them?"

After a few moments, his eyes closed. His voice sounded from his chest, "Itachi, confine Hidan."

Charlotte observed as Itachi moved from the doorway towards the two pissed men, discarding the groceries on the table. The white haired man was still having his advances blocked by the masked man's huge fists and he was none too happy about it. He cursed as he swung again and again. Each time his weapon about hit the fan making Charlotte cringe. He glanced over at Itachi, his eyes boring into his. "Now what do you want, you fucking pussy?"

Itachi's eyes, Charlotte could see, began to spin just like they had when they were in the car. Only this time they spun quicker and she noticed the immediate response it had on the recipient. She watched as the man's body went limp as he and his giant weapon collapsed on the carpet.

The blue man gave a massive, dissatisfied sigh as he stretched his long limbs above his head. "Damn, I was hoping for a little more action." His bones popped making even Charlotte's own joints ache.

Charlotte gaped at him. More action? They were ready to slice each other's throat and he was upset there wasn't more action? She focused back on the man lying on her floor. He wasn't dead. His chest still moved as he breathed in his unconscious state. So what exactly had Itachi done to him? What kind of power did those eyes of his possess to make a grown man fall to the floor?

Hardly feeling it, a drop of blood rolled down her eyebrow. The vision of red in her right eye caused her to blink rapidly trying to thwart it off. Her hand grasping the end of the coffee table, she pulled herself up to her knees and then to her feet. She applied pressure to the injury hoping to slow the bleeding until she reached her bathroom. All the while, she glowered at the carpet saying, "Should have done something sooner, bastards."

She reached her medicine cabinet clumsily taking out rubbing alcohol, hand towel, and band aids. Stepping in front of the mirror, she sucked in a tense breath hissing the word, "Shit."

Removing her palm from the cut she immediately saw the bruising and swelling beginning to set in. She had hardly been able to stop the bleeding with the amount of pressure she supplied—of course she needed to remember that head injuries always bled more. Charlotte hurriedly uncapped the alcohol and tipped it onto the towel to press against her forehead.

A sincere amount of stinging and a few butterfly band aids later, Charlotte stared at the wound that had managed to swell. The bump, she hoped would not puff any further less she would take on the look of Quasimodo. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth; how could she work at the restaurant tomorrow with her face looking like that?

Of course, she was upset that she would have to call off for a little while. She couldn't show her face anywhere looking like a victim of domestic abuse. It would cause distress on the customers and she would be told to take off in the end anyway. Stupid bastards. She kept replaying the event back through her mind. Through the entire affair, no one had stepped in to stop the fiasco—neither when they started nor when she had entered. Did these men not have any amount of respect for her or her home?

No.

Charlotte tried to shake the thoughts out of her mind. Honestly, if she kept it up, she would wind up saying something along the offensive side and piss someone off. Or she wouldn't make them supper which frankly sounded like the perfect punishment for them all.

Unfortunately, she knew if she didn't make them supper soon she would be bombarded with demands later. So she sucked in her pride and stepped out of the bathroom with an expression of detachment. She would pretend the cut didn't have any effect on her. That was her plan until she heard a particular blond decided to partake.

"Whoa!" Charlotte heard him gasp out a laugh. "It looks like someone took sledgehammer to your eye, un." She heard someone else join in with his chuckling. Deep laughter coming from the belly… Sounded like the blue guy who was sitting next to the blond on the couch.

Charlotte paused in her step to turn and look at the guy that appeared to be a couple years her junior. If it had been anyone else, she would have come back with a snarky comment. But, seeing how these were all guys who were significantly larger and scarier than herself, Charlotte decided to ignore him with an eye roll. Best not to indulge in his taunt.

Besides, the thought of spitting in their food was rewarding enough.

She stepped onto the tile of her kitchen seeing all of the bags of groceries on her table. Staring at it for a moment with a dumb expression, she finally asked, "How did these get here?"

"I carried the rest up while you were fixing yourself in the bathroom." Charlotte looked over to where Itachi sat in the chair. He didn't look at her; he sat there with his eyes shut and acted like he hadn't said a word.

With a single nod, she began to sort through the bags to put away the groceries. She didn't thank him. She was still upset with everyone for not interfering before. Thinking back on it, she glanced at the unconscious man who was now propped up with his weapon against the wall.

"How long until he wakes up again?" Her voice sounded uninteresting as she placed her items into the refrigerator. Honestly, she kind of wished he never woke up.

"Usually recovery would last from days to weeks," Itachi began barely glancing at the man. "But since Hidan has a… Special sense of pain tolerance I wouldn't be surprised if he woke much sooner." He loosely crossed his arms over his middle.

Charlotte paused in placing her milk on the shelf in her fridge as she registered his words. Days to weeks of recovery? What exactly had she gotten into?

With another nod she took the sacks of hygiene products and set them next to the door of her bathroom not wanting to explain it to them yet. She was too tired to have to deal with their questions. So she went back to her kitchen and began pulling out a pan and spatula for the burgers. She pulled the seasonings from the cabinet.

She proceeded to wash her hands and unwrap the packages of beef on her counter. When she started to shape the ground meat into patties, she felt someone looking over her shoulder. She turned still smashing the meat in her hands.

A giant swirl of orange entered her vision as she stepped aside to create more space between them. He didn't say anything; he only stared through the tiny eyehole in his mask. She gave him an irritated frown.

"Is there something you want?" She asked impatiently setting the patty down and working on the next.

"No, no!" He laughed nervously waving his hands in from of him. "I was just watching the pretty lady make food."

Her eyes narrowed at his flattery while rinsing her hands. "Then watch from somewhere else. You're too close and it's making me uncomfortable." She turned her back to him to glare down at the meat.

"Sorry!" He quickly apologized and took a few steps away from her so he could sit his bottom on the counter near the sink. "What are you making?" He asked when she turned on the stove and flames erupted from the burner.

"Burgers," She answered curtly while placing four meat patties on the pan.

He gave out an 'ooh' voicing his interest boisterously. "What is a 'burger'?" His hands gripped the edge of the counter as he leaned forward in curiosity.

"It's beef." She once again gave only half an answer since she didn't feel like talking. She was beginning to wonder what exactly it was the man was trying to do. Not one of them had tried to have a conversation with her, and this one was practically begging for her attention like a stray cat. In her hazy memory, she remembered it was this guy who had been sleeping in front of her doorway that morning.

"Does it taste delicious?" He questioned lifting a finger to his mask as though he were tapping his chin cutely.

With an exasperated sigh she turned to him. "I guess it depends on your taste buds." She shook powered garlic onto the patties as they sizzled at her. Next, she ordered the nuisance to shift his legs to the side so she could get into the drawer they covered. Pulling out a metal spatula, she returned to the stove and proceeded to turn up the heat.

It had been years since she had made homemade burgers. The scent of cooking beef and garlic drifted her to thoughts of living with her parents. She remembered her father always insisting they ate a hearty Sunday lunch. He put on his apron with the ridiculous phrase "Kiss the Cook!" and headed outside to grill—grilled burgers were always better than those made on the stove. Charlotte remembered his first attempt at making barbeque chicken and how he had burned the bird to a crisp. That Sunday he took them all to a restaurant in town to make up for his mistake. It never stopped him though. The next week he tried again, succeeding. He was so proud of himself he titled himself as the Barbeque King for the next month.

Of course, any other time his "title" came up was when he had another grilling disaster and the term was used with sarcasm. It had been a joke for years after that.

Charlotte tucked the memories to the back of her mind again as she realized it was time to flip. The burgers weren't quite yet done, but she supposed better to flip now before it burned.

The smell of cooking meat seemed to bring life back to her guests. She saw the blond carrying on a conversation with the big, blue man. She didn't care to listen to the exact topic, but she kept hearing foreign names mumbled between them as they shared past experiences.

She noticed that even the woman of their group spoke silently with the leader as they stood, staring outside the window. It had been overcast most of the day, but God's thumbnail was trying to peep through the clouds. Charlotte wasn't able to make any words from their discussion since they spoke softly, obviously not wanting to be heard.

Her table seemed to be unnervingly quiet. Itachi still had himself in a reclined position in his chair. His arms crossed over his chest as he kept his eyes shut, seemingly unaware of the world around him. She knew better.

The red-headed fellow did not look too enthralled with the situation. He lazily picked at the joint of his wrist. Honestly, from where she stood by the stove, it appeared as tough he was adjusting something the way he pinched his fingers and twisted. Charlotte decided not to think on it too much.

Charlotte's eyes shifted to the black and white man loitering near her bedroom. He didn't quite know what to do with himself as he stood there and glanced between all of his mates around her apartment as he… Spoke to himself? Yes. She could hear the two distinct voices he possessed muttering back in forth. Rather, the dark one held a tone close to scolding.

She told herself not to stare for too long.

Lastly, she went to glance at the end of the table closest to her apartment door. She quickly moved her eyes away when she realized the masked man had been watching her the entire time she gauged his colleagues. A chilly tremor made its way down her spine. Out of everyone in the room, she couldn't stand looking at that man. Sure, they were all creepy and psychotic, but they weren't always as cantankerous as this man was. He never looked happy. About anything. Honestly, he looked poised to kill.

Attempting to ignore the daggers he was piercing into her body with his Christmas-colored eyes, she traveled her eyes wearily over the other masked man in her midst. "What is your name?" She asked allowing her eyes to follow the swirling pattern of his disguise.

He jumped, outwardly surprised by her abrupt question. He placed a hand over his chest and pronounced, "Tobi! My name is Tobi!"

Charlotte poked her burgers to see how well the middle was cooking. "Well," she shrugged her shoulders, "That the most normal name I've heard so far. But not what I would call threatening."

She reached into one of the high cupboards and slipped out a large plate to put her finished patties onto. As she checked the remaining burgers on the pan, Tobi slanted his head inquisitively at her. "Not threatening? You don't think I'm scary?" He almost had a pouting tone to his voice, but Charlotte sensed a sort of hidden sarcasm in his innocence.

Truth be told, he didn't have the name, looks, or actions of anyone or anything frightening. He acted so naive and, in general, like a child. He didn't scare her. But she sure didn't trust him.

So she stared at him through the corner of her eyes and replied honestly. "I don't know," she mumbled placing more meat in the pan. "What's with the mask?"

In response, he wiggled uncomfortably on the counter. "Well, you see, I'm a bit shy," Tobi placed both hands over the cheeks of his mask as if to hide his imaginary blush.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Hiding your face behind a mask for a simple case of timidity seems somewhat extreme."

"Oh, but I'm _really_ shy." He raised his arms high above his head to exaggerate. "That's why I have to hide my face."

"Sure," she nodded deciding to go along with his defense like a parent would listen to their child's imagination.

Tobi scooted himself down the counter and closer to her. He leaned his mask in close to her face making Charlotte move herself to stay from his sudden intrusion. "How is your eye feeling?" He asked, his head leaning in further. "It looks _painful_!"

Charlotte gave him a look of aggravation. Clearly he didn't have any personal boundaries and did not mind breaking others' limits. She shooed him back until he sat back on the countertop as he should. "It's really nothing," she grumbled at him. "The cut is small. There will be bruising from hitting the table, but that won't leave a scar." She shrugged her shoulders stiffly. "It wouldn't be the first time I've had a black eye. Once, in soft ball when I was up to bat, the ball went straight for my eye." She gave a short chortle. "I think my dad was more upset about it than me."

"What is 'softball'?" Tobi's questioning voice came back again as she dug through her refrigerator drawers for veggies to cut up. "If it's a _soft_ ball, how could it have given you a black eye?"

With onions, pickles, tomatoes, and lettuce in hand, Charlotte gave Tobi a dubious expression. "You don't know what softball is?"

"Nope!" He answered with his shoulders shrugged.

"It's a game kind of like baseball. You know, with four bases, a bat, a ball, and gloves?" She asked with only the return of his head shaking a negatory.

She sighed pulling out a cutting board and a knife. "Where the hell are you guys from?"

"Well," Tobi said suddenly cheerful, "Zetsu and I were in Rice Country when we were teleported! Does that help?"

"Rice Country…" Charlotte shook her head. "Never heard of it."

"Really?" He asked tilting his head again. "Maybe you've heard of the Hidden Village of the Sound? It's in Rice Country."

Charlotte rinsed her tomatoes and lettuce in the sink as she continued to shake her head at him. "I have no clue where you're talking about. What country is this in?"

"I have all ready told you! Rice Country!" He sat there peacefully complete unaware of the frustration being built inside of her.

Charlotte took a deep breath before slicing her tomatoes. "Yes. I heard you say rice _country_, but that isn't the type of country I'm talking about. Is it in China? Is it in Russia? South America? Do you understand what I mean by 'country'?"

"But… I haven't heard of any of those countries…" He fiddled with his thumbs as though he had just been given an F on his spelling test. And judging by his knowledge of geography, he definitely had a few problems in his education.

"What are these other countries you speak of?"

Charlotte found herself tilting her head to look in the eyes of the handsome red-head who had spoken. Her eyebrows furrowed at him as she responded, "So… You don't know about the countries I listed either?"

His half-lidded eyes stared at her outwardly undisturbed by any confusion unlike Charlotte's face which was twisted in aggravation. He shook his head.

Charlotte used her free hand and ran her fingers through her hair. Why were these people all so strange? Why was she stuck with such uncultured numbskulls? She shook her head deciding to forget the conversation. She wasn't about to give them a geography lesson of the world and its countries.

Between slicing her variety of vegetables, Charlotte kept adding and removing burgers from the pan. Eventually, she dubbed that she had made enough hamburgers to feed a small army and finished placing the toppings in appropriate bowls to the side for the taking. She pulled out paper plates from the cabinets above her toaster seeing how she didn't want to wash up after them. She then proceeded to call everyone's attention and declare supper to be ready.

They all sat, waiting for someone else to stand and go first. Charlotte noticed how they all either glanced at each other or tried to avoid eye contact with each other hoping the other person was more confident.

She could not believe what she was seeing. She expected this from some awkward high school students, but not from grown men. They were waiting for someone else to lead and give them an excuse to follow. She nearly slapped her face in their stupidity.

Instead, she settled for rolling her eyes. She decided to go first—she _did_ make the food, so first dibs were in her honor—all the while she called over her shoulder, "You guys had better get over your petty apprehension and eat. I don't want to hear any complaints about cold food."

As she grabbed a plate, she heard the springs in her couch groan as a tremendous weight was lifted. Large footsteps made their way next to her and she watched a big blue hand reach out and take a paper plate from the stack just as she had.

The man's somewhat smooth voice spoke down to her, "So what is this… food you have prepared?"

Charlotte looked up at him to give her response on instinct. She should not have. Standing directly next to the man made her feel so small and weak compared to his tall and wide stature. He could probably pick her up and snap her in two if he wanted. And it would be simple. She gaped up at him for a moment stuttering, before clearing her throat and answering, "Hamburgers," she looked back down at her empty plate finding she had to look away from him and his odd features. She couldn't get over his bizarre skin markings. "I know it's not familiar to any of you. Try it and see if you like it."

Charlotte busied herself by picking a bun from its plastic wrapper and made her sandwich. The giant did the same and she noticed, one at a time, everyone decided to form a line behind them.

She put most of the toppings she had cut on her burger along with ketchup. She couldn't help but observe how many others were choosing the same toppings she had, deciding to play it safe. How childish.

With water bottle in hand and the couch currently vacant, she decided to sit on the right side where the blond had previously sat himself. She set her drink on the coffee table and reached for the remote. She was suddenly confused why no one had thought to turn on the television for entertainment. She did not dwell and clicked the power button and began to channel surf. She found a Batman movie being aired on channel eleven and decided to stick with it.

Whispers were heard from her kitchen as Charlotte's guests talked amongst themselves about the strange food. They smelled and tasted the different toppings she left out and eventually began to put together their own hamburgers.

"Excuse us Miss Chapman," a soft voice announced.

Charlotte looked up to the multiply personality man with the plant-like growth surrounding him. She gave him a confused look seeing how she didn't understand why he would want her attention.

"_Do you have any raw meat left over_?" A gruffer voice continued as he had her attention.

Her eyebrows wrinkled further. "Yeah… in the fridge…" She watched as his inconveniently large form made its way over to her fridge. She turned in her seat to look over the couch as he pulled out the packaging from the refrigerator. "Would you like for me to make you something else that you would like?" Wait… Why did she care?

"No, we will be fine with this, thank you," his white face smiled at her as his hands tore off the clear plastic wrap.

Charlotte saw him clump some of the raw meat into his hands as she asked, "What do you mean you're fin-" She stopped when he brought the beef to his lips and begun to chomp on the uncooked cow.

Her mouth dropped. Her chin hung in a mixture of feelings. Disgust was her main emotion at the moment as she saw some blood gush out from the corner of his unsatisfied lips. Astonishment was the other reaction she was having as she heard the man growl in distaste, "_It doesn't even compare to human flesh_." To which the other side replied with, "Yes, but leader said we cannot eat people from this dimension in case we are discovered."

A hand went and covered her open mouth as she let out a small cry at the man's—no _monster_—words.

"It's nothing to get worried about," someone said to her as she felt the cushions to her side sink. She now noticed the blond sitting next to her and the giant sitting next to him. The blond looked completely calm as he stared at the screen of her television slightly confused by the show. He didn't seem phased at all by what the creature had just said.

"Are you kidding me?" She practically squeaked because he throat was so tight. "He's standing over there eating raw meat and talking about eating humans. Does this monster's cannibal ways not disturb or worry you in the slightest?" She glared at how peaceful he appeared while his eyes did not leave the TV. Then she came to a conclusion, "Unless you're all cannibals." Her eyes widened in horror.

That got the blond to turn his head. "What?" He asked looking at her like she was completely mental. "No, just Zetsu is a cannibal, un. And you don't need to worry because leader has all ready ordered him not to eat you." He returned his gaze back to Bruce Wayne on the screen.

"And that is supposed to make me less worried?" She asked hysterically. "Why would he want to eat me to begin with? Do I look tasty? Do I have some appetizing aura surrounding me just begging for someone to take a bite? Am I so mouth-watering that he has to be _ordered_ not to eat me?" Her frantic words only rewarded her from a sideways smirk from the blond and a few chuckles from around the room.

"I don't know anything about how tasty you look," the blond chucked, "But Zetsu's job is to keep any secrets about our organization from slipping out. Seeing how you're a security risk, the possibility of getting rid of you was an issue. But you're cleared for now; nothing to fear, un."

Charlotte turned her body so she could face the television once again. Her hamburger did not look as appetizing as it had before and she couldn't stomach the thought of eating at the moment. She set her plate on the armrest mumbling, "You guys are all seriously insane…"

They continued to watch the film while they ate. Some went back for seconds, much to Charlotte's delight, and the giant even went back for thirds. Charlotte was beginning to calm down from the cannibal revelation when she heard a pained moan coming from the unconscious man against her wall.

She glanced over at the white-haired male, now known as Hidan, and watched as his eyes were starting to open. He clamped his eyes shut at the brightness from her ceiling fan. "Fuck," he muttered clamping his fists over his temples.

His eyes met hers, "What are you looking at, cunt?" He barked at her struggling to get on his knees. "You fucking came out looking worse than I did."

He wasn't lying. All the man had to show for his failure was a busted lip—not to mention the swelling was all ready receding. Charlotte could feel her eye throb as blood rushed to her head in anger. She held her tongue deciding it not best to retort.

She grit her teeth together.

Hidan's eyes bore into her as she glared at the television. Deciding the smell of food overweighed his need to snap at her, he demanded to know what there was to eat. Someone at the table—the red-head it sounded like—informed him.

Charlotte noticed Hidan quieted after he stuffed food into his stomach and all was still while the watched Wayne uncover the truth behind the corrupt asylum. Secretly, Charlotte questioned if that was the exact kind of place her quests had come from—a dirty place where they did criminal tests on their patients. That would explain a lot about some of their physical traits.

Honestly, it was sort of uncomfortable watching a movie with so many strange people. Anyone who walked in on the situation could clearly see through everyone's rigid posture. It was tense. But, as the film moved on and everyone one became engrossed, Charlotte found the atmosphere to be tolerable. It was tolerable to the point to where she could focus on the movie, but not so tolerable that she could suddenly turn on the blond next to her and start a pillow fight. She had the funny feeling that if she attempted such a thing her arms would be ripped from their sockets. And Charlotte liked her arms. And she didn't feel a terrible need to have a pillow fight.

She did feel a terrible need for some pain reliever, however.

Charlotte's eye throbbed horribly and it began to spread to the back of her head. She decided to leave her perch on the couch and made her way into the bathroom. Digging through her various pill bottles in her mirror cabinet, she found something to sooth her pain. She shook three into her hand and returned to the living room to grab her drink. But just before she could pop the tiny pills into her mouth, a hand reached out and took hold of her wrist.

Charlotte's eyes followed up the offender's arm and to narrowed khaki-colored eyes. It was the red headed fellow that always sat at her table. He continued to stare at her and she was becoming aware that others were becoming distracted by his sudden movement. She squirmed uncomfortably attempting to pull her appendage away. He didn't budge.

"Um…" She began dropping her eyes to where his hand held her wrist tightly. She noticed how his touch was cold and oddly hollow. "Do you have a problem you'd like to address?"

His eyes dropped from her face to her palm where her pills rested. "I want to test these."

She rolled her eyes showing him how ridiculous she thought his reaction was. "If you wanted some, why didn't you just ask? Do you have a headache or something?" She began to stand and step towards the bathroom to get more for him. He didn't remove his hand and this caused her to look back at him. If he wanted some, he would have to release her.

"I do not want them for my use," he stated flatly. He took his free hand and took the pills from the hand he clutched. "I want test them for poison."

He dropped her hand and walked back to the table while Charlotte watched him with now wide eyes. "Poison," she repeated with slight fear creeping into her tone. "Are you saying that one of you guys is trying to poison me?"

"Actually, you have it backwards." He was reaching into his cloak and pulling out different test tubes and fluids Charlotte could not name. "More than likely, you would try to poison yourself."

Astounded by this claim, her mouth dropped. She glowered at him and she noticed how almost no one was looking at the television any longer. Truly watching her get riled up was much more entertaining than any action movie.

"Why would I try to poison myself?" She practically yelled at him. "That's crazy! And if anyone in here is crazy, it'd be one of you," she pointed her finger out and gestured to the room. "What would I even gain if I poisoned myself?"

"In many cases, hostages commit suicide," Itachi offered. Charlotte still found him sitting in his normal chair against the wall. Under his lashes, he watched as the man across from him fiddled with the solutions in his hands. He turned to glance at her. "Usually this is done either out of simple fear or because the hostage does not want to reveal secrets."

"What do I have to hide?" She asked staring into Itachi's red irises with fury. "You guys have already searched my apartment. I have spent the day out in public, and though the thought came to me, I did not run. I bought you food and cooked for you," She threw her hands in front of her. "What else do you want from me, a blood contract?"

She ignored any agreements to her dramatic suggestion.

Itachi met her angered expression with a calm, but stern, face. "Though it does seem for now that you are not hiding anything, there is still the possibility of suicide to escape your fear. Which, you are of use at this moment of time and your untimely death would be of inconvenience."

She slammed a hand to her forehead, away from her eye, as she stared up at the ceiling fan. Honestly, how did she end up with such paranoid freaks? So glad she was important enough for them to keep her alive. For now. "Fine. Whatever," she finally said giving up on trying to even reason with him. "Can I just take my pills now? My eye hurts and so does my head—not that either of you are making things better."

The red head plopped her pills into the liquid and watched at the solution fizzed and turned into a shade of murky brown. He set the tube down, but didn't separate his eyes from the mixture. "It is safe."

With a huff of annoyance, she stomped her way into the bathroom once again to retrieve medication. She slammed the mirror when she got what she wanted letting them hear how frustrated she was. She went back into the living room avoiding everyone's gaze to gulp down the pills. She then took her plate and cup into the kitchen and placed it into the sink. She took a look at the dishes left on the counter from the meal and noticed only a bit of the toppings were left. Putting wrap over the top of the bowls, she placed them in the refrigerator, and retreated to her bedroom.

Despite her rage, she quickly fell asleep after the medicine kicked in.

/

Charlotte woke to an awful pulse reverberating through her eye. She blindly cupped her hand around her injury and realized it felt more swollen than it had the night before. She glanced at her alarm clock beside her bed and found it was sometime around seven in the morning.

Sitting up in her blankets only caused the throb in her head to quicken as her headache threatened to worsen. Groaning, she foggily grasped her glasses put them on. Next, she grabbed her cell and went through her contacts to find her work number. She selected it and it began to dial.

She waited until a receptionist from the hotel answered and then she asked to be redirected to the restaurant. After a few rings, she heard a beep and left her message informing that she would not be able to work—making up some excuse about being sick—and apologizing for the late notice. Honestly, she should be calling others to fill in for her, but she could hardly think straight enough to keep her voice from slurring during her message. She was sure that either her boss would find someone or they'd deal without her.

Finished up her call with a final apology, she hung up. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed slowly and began her groggy walk to her door. How late had she stayed up watching that movie?

When she opened her door, she found she was less surprised when she saw the men in her apartment. And they seemed less impressed with her entrance this morning seeing how only a few of them looked up at her. Even though she was wearing her night attire of a cami and pajama pants.

"Who were you talking to?" Pein asked. He was standing next to the window. Her curtains were drawn and she watched as he peered down at the probably bustling city below.

Actually, Charlotte was somewhat surprised he could hear her in her room from across the room and with her door shut. She even thought she was talking lightly. Although, she decided to not underestimate his skills and responded calmly, "I was leaving a message at my work. I told them I was sick and wouldn't be able make it to work tonight." She rubbed her eyes under her glasses.

His eyes departed from the window to her. She guessed he was looking for any sign of dishonesty. When he detected none, he averted his eyes.

Continuing her journey, she made it to the bathroom where she searched for more pills from her cabinet. Then she trekked across her living room to her kitchen to pour herself a glass of milk. After downing the medicine, she reached for a drawer, withdrew a quart bag, and proceeded to the fridge to fill it with ice. With her makeshift icepack, she found a kitchen towel and pressed the cold package to her eye.

Honestly, she didn't know how such a seemingly small cut could hurt so much. Then again, it wasn't necessarily the cut that was making her hurt; it was the bruising from smashing her head on the table that was making her ache. She officially wished Hidan was feeling worse than herself after his encounter with Itachi the past night. No pain relievers for any headache of his.

She felt as though she was being watched but couldn't find the will or want to glare back at the offending eyes. Instead, she chose to glare at the skillet and bowls she had left out the night before. She mentally cursed herself for being so careless as to not clean it up the night before or at least set it to soak. Then again, she remembered being fairly irate last night, so she probably wasn't thinking about how clean she had left her counter before heading to bed.

Since when did she become such an angry person?

Not wanting to think about a possible personality change, she went to her sink a started the water.

Within a half an hour, all of her dishes sat, wet, in her strainer. She felt somewhat accomplished. Not to mention her headache was beginning to disappear seeing how the medicine was taking its course. She also hasn't said a word to her unwelcomed guests besides Pein that morning, and she found this to be perfectly calming. Though, Charlotte decided she could do without the constant staring.

Deciding it was time to officially wake up, she headed to take a shower and get dressed. But before she could even reach her bedroom to retrieve her cloths, there was a knock at the door.

/ / /

Actually, after rereading, I have come to two conclusions. One, I feel as though this chapter flowed quickly… maybe more than I want it to… And two, all of my favorite parts were dialogue. Which is really weird because I typically don't like dialogue because I fear ooc-ness. But… I honestly think all of my favorite parts of this chapter where dialogue like the part with Tobi and Sasori. I don't know!

And since I totally forgot to insert the question in the last chapter, there will be two questions this time around.

**Question (Chapter 3): What are some things you'd like to see in the future chapters?**

**Question (Chapter 4): Who would you like to see Charlotte interact with more?**

I will admit, both of these questions are more for my benefit… ha ha. I am sort of at loss as to what my future chapter will hold. I have a specific, huge event that will take place a week or two in the story but I have to have Charlotte kill time before that happens. So I need to fill the empty spaces. Also, my chapter three question is currently inserted into the actual chapter three now. I just wanted to repost it on here so I could hear your answers.

And don't fret about my plans for right now, I have up until chapter seven written down and I have to say, chapter six is looking to be one of my favorites. It's going to be so great and funny; I can't wait!

**Responses to Reviews:**

**kittykat6625: **Thank you for the review! I'll have you know that reviews really do motivate the writer. Once I got your review, I began working on the chapter again. I typed a big chunk of the chapter actually c: And I thank you for kicking my butt into gear. As for updating soon, ha ha… I have this strange feeling it won't be as soon as you or any others want it to be. I'm sorry I can't get my lazy self to work faster, please be patient with me! And thank you again for the review, I hope to hear more from you!

**UrieNanashi:** I'm so happy you're looking forward for more! My updating is quite slow and I apologize for the long wait. Your review also helped me along in getting this chapter moving. And trust me when I agree that I REALLY want to see more too XD I just take forever to get it done… heh. Oh well, thank you for the review and I hope you liked this chapter enough to send another review my way c: And don't forget to answer the questions!

**PathofAldebourne****/ Path: **Woo! I finally get to see your true name! :D Truly, I'm happy that chapter three was funny for you. Sometimes I'm typing this stuff out and I'm sitting there smiling to myself and then I wonder… Does anyone else think it's funny? I love funny material, I love to laugh, so I try to add somewhat funny material into my story although it's difficult to add laughter to a story where the main character is sort of in a hostage situation. And honestly… I really love Itachi's bluntness too… As for Charlotte getting hurt, well, not all things go as planned!

I know I messaged you about the question for chapter 3, ha ha! You seemed so upset that I forgot about it! (So this just means you only need to answer my chapter four question). As you can see, I added in my interaction between Charlotte and Tobi. I don't want her to figure out anything about Tobi and his true identity. And I hate it when in other stories, the person can always figure out he's not to be trusted… Wow! He/She must be pretty smart to discover something behind one of the biggest plot turns in Naruto history seeing how no one else in the Akatsuki even noticed anything besides Itachi. Really? I mean, I did hint maybe a little bit that there was something off, but I simply put that she didn't trust him. Because why should she trust him? She doesn't trust any of them! Getting to know the other Akatsuki, it will take some time. I'm really going to just focus on a few of them by the end. I will let you in on a secret that Deidara is next on my hit list c: That's why I'm excited for chapter six! Technology and the Akatsuki… Well, I'm not sure how much they will get to see since, even if Charlotte did have a laptop, I wouldn't let them see it. If you look around at advertisements, there are a lot of Naruto references. I wouldn't want them to accidently see one of those, it would ruin my whole plan! D: But I will also tell you, that like Itachi and the car, we will have a run-in with a plan in much, much further chapters.

As for entertainment, I plan on fixing that again in a later chapter when dealing with apartment space. You'll see. As for entertainment while in the apartment… I sort of have a little something planned for chapter seven… But it's only for one of the Akatsuki members… and yes, American cuisine! They're going to have an interesting time trying new things.

**xBUzzOFF15x: **I bursting for joy at your review! Such sweet compliments! I'm finding quite a few of you guys thought the chapter was humorous and I'm sooo happy that you did. Because it is my purpose to have some funny between the serious. I'm also glad to hear I have common sense c; I hate ooc-ness. It's something I hate most, especially when someone has a really good idea for plot… And then they ruin it with ooc :I It just makes you want to smack them for ruining such a great moment. Thank you for the review, and I hope to hear more from you!

**KingofHeartless'09:** It's good to hear you're enjoying the story so far c: and as for a part for each character… I'm not sure I will include everyone… such as for someone like Kakuzu seeing how Charlotte doesn't really like him much. He creeps her out. Though, as you can see, I included false Tobi in this chapter. I don't think we will every see him act as Real Tobi around her or not. We'll just have to see what it all boils down to in the end. I will think about it, of course.

**blackcatgirl: **Such a beautiful review! I thank you so much for your input! And it's great to hear you actually laughed out loud! I didn't think it was going to turn out so funny! As for Sasori's puppet-ness, she doesn't know yet, nor about Deidara's hands. Though if you noticed Charlotte's observation about Sasori's hand when he grabbed her, "… cold and oddly hollow" and even about how it appeared her was adjusting something on his wrist… She notices that there's something off. She probably just doesn't want to think about it or accept it yet. She hasn't noticed anything yet about Deidara, in fact, they actually had their first sort-of-kind-of conversation in this chapter. But, do not fear, she will discover his hand abnormalities in chapter six c: And I don't think she will find out about Pein's body until later in a special chapter I have in store. We'll see about that. And you're right about writer's block being the bane of a writer's life… It took so long to spit this chapter out of my brain and through my finger tips… But I thank you for reading the story so far and for the wonderful review. I hope you liked this chapter!

**kayra isis: **No matter how much I hear it, I still lover it when someone says my characters are in character… You have no clue… And to say that you could see them acting like this if something like this were to ever happen? So flattering! Thank you!

And yes, poor Itachi. But, he's going to have to endure much more because there is still so much to see in our world! He must brave through it…

**RandomCitizen: **Honestly, I can tell you that Charlotte and Itachi are going to become… I wouldn't choose the world 'close', but they're going to gain more… understanding for each other. Itachi is a very levelheaded person and can see things for what they are. I think Charlotte will grasp onto that part of him seeing how she can't find it with anyone else in her apartment. Not to mention he looks normal and doesn't always act hostile. And that Hidan! As you can see, he caused even more trouble and I'm sure it won't be the last time. Indeed he is my third favorite Akatsuki member, but geez! I would totally hate the guy too if I ever had to deal with him on person. And in a small enclosed space, to boot. I don't know if Tobi would make things worse… But I believe if Charlotte had to choose between the two, Tobi would come first waaay before Hidan. Tobi doesn't hurt people. As for the science guy… c: I cannot wait until I am able to reveal so much to you guys. I really can't. It will be so exciting! But it won't happen until so many chapters… So just hold on tight because there will be a lot of chapters between now and then. And it's going to be a bumpy ride :I

Well, I want to update as soon as possible since I finally have this finished. Enjoy my pretty readers, and leave reviews regarding the questions if you could. It'd be _very_ helpful! :D


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